


Tea, Anyone?

by Leuny (Aibhilin)



Category: Magic Kaito
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22975879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aibhilin/pseuds/Leuny
Summary: Hakuba has already done everything he could think of to catch the elusive thief, so why not go for something unorthodox for once? In a world where nothing is for sure, enemies may just become allies. Now, if only he didn't feel so ridiculous doing this...This is one of those fanfics that I pulled over from ff.net, meaning I'll clean up grammar/spelling mistakes and/or expand upon it later on. As such, the tags on ff.net were as follows:Magic Kaito/まじっく快斗 - Rated: K - English - Humor/Friendship - Chapters: 5 - Words: 26,920 - Reviews: 17 - Updated: 7/20/2013 - Published: 5/15/2012 - Kaito K., Saguru H., Toichi K., Chikage K. - Complete
Relationships: Hakuba Saguru & Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	1. Tea And Cookies, Anyone?

**Author's Note:**

> My advice: Dear reader, this story is kind of a funny plot bunny that has grown and grown inside my head until I finally let it loose on my computer's word program. Thusly, you might want to make yourself a nicely steaming cup of tea, grab some sweet chocolate cookies, lean back and get comfortable in your chair, just to put yourself into the right mood for reading this little ficlet... :_D
> 
> Additional information: As an inspiration for the implementation of this rather… unorthodox… idea the following video has helped me a lot:
> 
> http: slash slash www dot youtube dot com slash watch?v=rrXnPaY4OQA
> 
> (just fill in the blanks yourself, please. Ffdotnet doesn't let me post the link otherwise.)
> 
> I hope you enjoy this first installment of my newest plot bunny's story!
> 
> Have fun!

**Tea, Anyone?**

**Disclaimer** : Nothing belonging to me excepting the plot bunny. My own fault if I let it go free in my own living room…

XXX

XXX

XXX

**Kyû/Ku/9**

XXX

XXX

XXX

" _Why, I'm having tea. Would you like some, too?" He was sitting in front of a table, having just extended his right hand that was holding his own slightly steaming tea cup towards the person in front of him. It obviously was a man, but more than that he could not make out. Somehow the light exuding from that person cancelled out his vision. Had it been a woman, he knew he'd have stood up already. Why was he sitting in his seat, still? This wasn't showing off his good manners, at all._

_As a proper host, he was supposed to stand up to show the other man that he respected him. But once that thought had formed in his head, he realized that he simply wasn't able to lift his body up from the chair. Why couldn't he stand up?_

_The other person came closer – still the facial features and general body outline were obscured, were indeed growing more and more blurry around the edges the more focused he tried to see who it was that was standing right in front of him._

_And then, all of a sudden nothing seemed to make sense any more, as the other person let themselves gracefully down into the chair opposite his own (where had the second chair come from?) and took on the form of one well-known Kaitô Kid, costume, monocle and hat. But he_ knew _already that his classmate, Kuroba Kaito, was Kid. So why was Kaitô Kid, in full costume, sitting in front of him? It should be his classmate, instead!_

_And yet, the other featured a different face entirely when he looked up at him. This Kaitô Kid looked… older, somewhat more… adult-like, as though it was a grown-up version of the magician-part-time- class-clown, only with a moustache. Why was he wearing a moustache? That was what struck Hakuba as really odd and it got his brain going. Finally, one rather essential question appeared on the forefront of his mind. Namely: What was the detective doing there in the first place? He couldn't remember his walk, nor could he remember his arrival on that rooftop. The draft and the view most certainly helped making sure of that little tidbit of useless information. In the end, he was still left wondering wherever that rooftop was located in the first place._

_What came next baffled the sleuth. The other opened his mouth and spoke. However, it wasn't Kid's suave "working voice" – nor was it Kaito's playful tones that came out of that mouth. It was someone else's voice entirely. This was decidedly surreal, and at the same time rather frightening to the detective. What he said sent especially shivers down the Hakuba heir's spine despite its seeming ridiculousness._

" _You might want to add cookies in there – wouldn't want the tea to become too bereft of sugary components, would we now? Additionally, you might want to invent more creative ways to keep the crows away from the cookies – maybe one of them you can allow to come closer, but you can never be so sure about that now, can you? After all, crows like to steal." A brief pause followed this statement as the man lifted his eyes off the tea cup in front of him to look at Hakuba meaningfully._

" _And what they steal, they never give back. My advice to you: be wary around them." The older man looked him straight into the eyes as he said that, staring right into his very soul, as though it lay bare before him just like a book to be read at his earliest convenience._

_Next, Hakuba felt a rising heat surround him, he felt something encircle his body so he couldn't breathe any more, and he needed air, needed to breathe, it was vital, there was some vertigo and what was going –_

A loud thump marked his body meeting the ground after he fell out of bed one sunny weekday morning in early autumn, a few minutes before his alarm clock rang.

XXX

XXX

XXX

A few weeks later, his whole behavior at the Kid heists had changed.

To be fair, it _had_ only been an innocent sentence that had started off the strange new attitude in the self-proclaimed Kaitô Kid expert and future capturer, having been uttered by a person completely unrelated to the thief or his heists in any matter at all, except for having her son participate in the creative wild-goose chases that the police put up every time the thief appeared on the scene.

XXX

"Well, he sounds just like a real gentleman, from what I've heard. Why don't you invite him for tea?"

At first, he could not help but immediately protest that unwanted description of the annoying cat burglar by the person on the other end of the line. "Mother! This is an internationally wanted criminal that you are talking about! One cannot simply invite him over for tea…" He trailed off pensively, his brain shifting into gear, having just been hit by an inspiration and a decisive déjà-vu.

In the following silence, his mother's remark went almost unheard by her son, "Oh my. I guess I might have just given you an idea, have I now? What a pity. I really hoped we could talk more this time around, but I think I'll leave you to your wool-gathering for now. I will, however, call you again this coming weekend, so do schedule so that you can spare me some time then, or I will be most displeased with you, do you understand? Goodbye." With a clack, she ended the call.

Hakuba's mind, on the other hand, was too preoccupied by the thoughts that were chasing one another at the speed of lightning in his head, so he did not immediately put the phone back down but stood listening to the beeping of the dead line for a few more moments.

The thief wasn't caught yet – why? Because he was able to outwit the police force. In other words, the thief could follow their train of thought and preempt any strikes and actions that could put a) his plans and/or b) his freedom in jeopardy. Usually the larcenist would predict fairly accurately or somehow find out beforehand what the police was about to do in order to catch him. It was eerie how he was able to do so without them being any the wiser. Oftentimes he would then somehow simply turn the police's trap against them and escape. This endeavor was also helped greatly by the thief's talent for improvising on the spot.

So, in order to: maybe at first not catch, but rather _lure_ the thief into the trap, you had to try and understand his way of thinking. It was a rather daunting and more than slightly dubious achievement. Hakuba could already feel the headache coming his way.

Nevertheless, it was a sound plan, if you asked him. The sleuth had already made the concession to himself to hear the midnight magician out before deciding upon a course of action. He'd been at it for too long already to still believe the thief was starving for the attention he got at his heists. The heists, after all, were nothing if not attention-grabbing. Nevertheless, the moonlighting magician returned every single gem that he got his hands on. He could have been filthy rich by now, but chose not to be. Hakuba wanted to know why.

Thus, offering tea (and cookies) and inviting the lawbreaker to sit with him really didn't appear absurd to the detective's mind at all, if one took into account just what the other put his chasers through during each and every heist without fail. Indeed, it seemed like a good way to throw the other for a loop for once. At least for the first few seconds.

XXX

XXX

XXX

Grimacing, the detective had to admit that the other was a master when it came to taking things in stride. Only those first few seconds he was able to see surprise in those unfathomable eyes. To think that it had taken him nine tries to finally encounter the thieving man, it was quite ridiculous that he only wanted to offer him tea instead of cuffing and arresting him.

He'd bought another (breakable) tea set – together with a travelling bag and a foldable mini-table and two chairs – on the first occasion that presented itself. The only thing he had to do then was figure out where the most probable routes leading the thief towards and away from the targets at his heists would most likely end up being. That, quite frankly, had proven to be the trickiest part so far. Snorting depreciatingly to himself, he was most decidedly sure of the fact that – was it not for the thief's innate curiosity – he would not even have met the other on that ninth night that he spent waiting out on an anonymous rooftop a fair distance away from a certain jewelry gallery, the heist location of the latest heist.

As it was, however, the thief had deemed him a formerly-chasing-now-curious entity, comparable to a train that had apparently switched tracks. All in all, he must have observed and followed Hakuba's seemingly-impromptu little tea sessions and supposed that it was worth a shot asking the sleuth just what the heck he thought he was doing sitting there calmly sipping his tea when he could be one of the many other people chasing after him.

So it came that on the ninth night after he'd started up his new routine that the thief had finally appeared on the scene and spoken to him, one eyebrow raised in bemused contemplation of what was right in front of him.

"My, my, tantei-san. Expecting someone special?"

The sleuth did not deign that with a response. The resulting silence was, of course, immediately noticed and interpreted by the other.

"Or, would it rather be _**me**_ whom you were expecting to show up? What a warm welcome to tonight's heist!" It almost seemed as though he were putting invisible cream on the pronoun when he spoke; as if it were a beloved pet that he was talking about instead of himself. Right. Arrogance, check. Or would that rather be categorized as self-confidence? Whichever it was, the thief obviously had it aplenty. Not that that was anything new.

With a grand hand movement, he bowed once to the detective, and then, with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes telling the thief the famous words "catch me if you can" in that one look, he got back up and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

The sleuth now had a decision to make. He could follow the thief (and make a good clown out of himself in the process) or he could simply sit there and wait for the moonlighting magician to come back (because he already had a feeling that the ledgerdemainist would be back once the heist was over). In the end it was an easy decision to make, he supposed, as he added another sugar cube to his newly-filled cup of tea.

XXX

About two hours later, he was still on that same rooftop, sipping tea and eating cookies. He was glad to have had a few runs of this before he'd met the thief (or rather before the thief had let himself be seen and interacted with), or he would have already run out of cookies and tea. Seeing as he had had those few "trial runs" before, he had had a few things to add and a few more important things to consider and keep in mind ( _such as easy access to the toilet, for example. That had_ **not** _been a fun trial run_ ) before he could safely say that he was completely prepared for meeting the thief.

The last few meetings had been kind of boring, nevertheless.

So it was still with quite a bit of surprise that he managed to _only_ _just_ not let his face show that he realized that the thief had indeed come back.

"Pray tell, what exactly do you want to accomplish with _this_?" It was all about pronouns nowadays, wasn't it? The thief didn't even have to move a finger and yet his speech managed to encompass all the items, the table and the chairs that Saguru had diligently arranged the evening before.

Curiosity killed the cat. He was happy that old sayings always held true in the end.

Rather fervent shouting could be heard in the distance. In such moments he was glad for his new-found habit of drinking tea on a heist; he wouldn't have to endure a Nakamori-keibu-given-speech from direct proximity. And yet, it brought out all the more laughable aspects of what he was doing, as well. Holding onto his cultivated speech by a bare thread, he managed to miraculously get out a very calmly spoken string of words that actually could be counted as a sentence, "I'm having tea, Kid-san. Would you like some too?" With a light gesture towards the second seat, he invited the thief to sit with him.

All that time, the detective sincerely hoped that the moon that was shining brightly that night would still be able to help obscure the light coloring of his cheeks when he was sitting with his back towards it. In the meantime, he absolutely tried not to think about the absurdity and ridiculousness of explaining his actions to a thief that strived to single-handedly show up reality and all the laws of physics at the same time. He marveled at having gotten out a whole sentence without either coughing embarrassedly or dissolving into insane giggles.

If he'd looked at the situation at hand from a safe distance, he would have admitted that he'd never before managed to talk to the thief like this before. Thus, it could in all honesty be booked as a small victory already. Yet, he didn't, and so it was decidedly difficult for Hakuba to keep a straight face.

Gulping all the excited bubbly feelings down, he instead concentrated on the conversation. The thief had asked him something, after all.

"Isn't it rather obvious what I am doing here? Why, I'm having tea. Would you like some, too?" Hakuba felt as though he had experienced this conversation somewhere before… ah yes, that dream. An absolute déjà-vu, this scene. Another shiver went down the sleuth's body. _Please, don't say anything about cookies, please –_

"Why?" A frown marred the thief's face. A rather youthful face. Without a moustache, thankfully.

He closed his eyes, grateful for the similarities between reality and that weird dream to have ended there. With a slight smile playing on his lips, the detective answered, having all the time in the world at his hands to do so as long as the thief decided to stay.

"I wanted to have tea. Contrary to popular belief, I do not particularly care for being an active participator in the wild goose chases you inspire in the members of the Kaitô Kid Task Force, so I thought about other ways we could meet."

A raised eyebrow over the one visible eye marked the disbelief that was plain to hear in the larcenist's voice. "And you immediately thought having a tea party was the best course of action. Seeing as how I never actually showed any interest in tea at all before, it might just be one of my favorite things to do once I shed the mask."

Blood was returning to his cheeks. Right. Bad plan, but nevertheless, it seemed to have worked – at least for now. They were talking, after all, instead of shouting at one another and/or running around. He coughed once to clear his throat and get his voice working (and to ensure it would not hitch or change at inopportune moments). Shrugging, Hakuba informed the thief in a matter-of-fact kind of voice of current the state of things.

"Well, I admit that this was a setting that I had not envisioned myself in before I was given inspiration to do so. But it certainly helped my case, didn't it?" Fixating the thief with a sharp look, the detective went on bravely.

"Now, if you would sit down? It's disrespectful towards my person to keep standing, don't you think?"

"No, I do not think I care for having tea at such a late hour." The moonlight magician lifted one hand to the brim of his hat and pulled it down a little so that the shadow fully covered his face, only barely leaving the reflection of the light that was coming from all around them to shimmer off the monocle. The grin was nondescript, though the law-abiding teenager thought he could detect a certain soberness and seriousness in it that simply did not suit the thief. There and gone again.

"I advise you too to consider returning home sometime soon, tantei-san. After all, it wouldn't do for someone with such high standing as you to be accused of trespassing now, would it?" The familiar mocking form of the unorthodox thief was standing there in front of him once more, before – a rather out-of-place, calmly spoken "See you next time, tantei-san." accompanying a flash! ( _Obviously one of his more silent smoke bombs_ ) – his conversational partner deserted the place.

It was this quickly that he found himself alone again on the empty rooftop in the middle of the night.

Allowing himself to outright grin now, the Hakuba heir was sure that even if he didn't have the thief's trust, for now he had an admittedly _decidedly_ doubtful way of ensuring they would meet; and it didn't even include those useless chases, either! That was one thing he would be happy to scratch off his list of things-to-do-at-a-Kid-heist. Not that he didn't like working out every now and then, but to senselessly chase after a thief that might not even be right in front of him anymore? No thank you. He knew better pastimes and hobbies he could take up if he happened to have too much time on his hands.

XXX

XXX

XXX

**Roku/6**

XXX

XXX

XXX

It wasn't until the next meeting that Hakuba was sure that their last had not been – as his mind had so helpfully suggested to him immediately afterwards – a dream, an illusion, a trick of the eyes, wishful thinking or anything the like. He'd looked into the mirror at about four o'clock in the morning that day (or night), and made himself doubt what he'd experienced barely an hour or two before. After all, it hadn't been all too likely for the thief to really take an interest in what one of his chasers been up to during the heists of his.

Hakuba was a detective, for crying out loud. He was supposed to chase the thief, arrest him and put him behind bars ( _not that knowing that had helped him in the past_ ), not have tea while other people were doing the chasing, the shouting and the falling-for-traps for a change. Surrealism doesn't even begin to cover the situation.

Instead, when he found himself once more on a rooftop, glad to have opted for a cheap foldable table and matching chairs instead of heavier variants, sitting comfortably in front of yet another cup of tea, this time with a little bit of honey and sugar added. The last meeting had been a little too reminiscent of the dream he'd had (could it be called a nightmare? He wasn't sure about that), so he'd decided to add a little more sugar to his tea. Should any ravens come, well, he'd brought a flyswatter with him this time. Not that he felt any more ridiculous with it, not at all. It was just a precaution, a sensible precaution against… oh, who was he kidding? This was a set-up more ridiculous than anything he'd ever done before.

And yet, it seemed to be working. For standing right in front of his very eyes once more, was the thief clad in white that he'd already tried so much to trap.

"Having tea again? Isn't it a little late for that?"

Incredulous to have been spoken to once more by the unique larcenist, though trying not to let it show, the detective looked the magician over. Yes, it _was_ late. The heist had ended just about half an hour ago – he'd heard it over the walkie-talkie that all members of the Kaitô Kid Task Force were supposed to bring to any and all heists and that he still possessed. The Task Force members still used it to stay apprised of any news regardless of whether the thief could hack it or not. Without it, his late-night tea sessions would have been so much more boring. A little disgruntled at his own forgetfulness, he still remembered the one time that he had indeed forgotten to bring it. It had not been a nice night – especially not since the thief hadn't deigned him with his presence yet.

And he still had to answer him, too. Deciding to be frank, he told the thief, "Well, I didn't know whether our last meeting was my imagination running wild or not. I had to make sure you were real, didn't I?" Right. In retrospect, it seemed it was more likely that reindeers could fly than that the thief wasn't real. But, well, with someone like _that_ , you simply couldn't ever know for certain, could you? Suddenly, the detective had no idea whatsoever just what he wanted to make sure of any more.

"I am real, tantei-san. As surreal as it may appear, our last meeting did, in fact, happen. Though I am still unsure about just who it is that others might call insane now, in a choice between the two of us."

Letting out a short, barking laugh, the Hakuba offspring conceded the point. So what, he might have gone mad by association. The thief couldn't be called normal by _any_ standards that existed, be it rational ones or not.

XXX

**CHANGE TO KAITO KUROBA'S POV**

The thief had quirked a smile at the uncommon humor in the blond. Who'd have known? There obviously was hope for the detective, still. Now he wasn't just one of the chasers. The detective's status in the thief's mind's eye had changed from an interesting challenge and occasional verbal sparring partner to an intriguing human being that had to be dissected and new parts of whom apparently still had to be discovered. Nothing the challenge-happy magician wouldn't enjoy tackling.

XXX

He'd originally only started talking to him because he'd wanted to know just why the detective would decide to camp out on a rooftop somewhere (sometimes closer to his escape routes, sometimes farther away) in the middle of a heist night when he could be one of the people trying to arrest him, instead.

The second time that had found him in front of said tea-drinking detective was, admittedly, because of a far more sobering reason. The thief's first rule about people _did_ include that nobody got randomly shot at during one of his heists. Especially not by people in trench coats who just so happened to attend some of his heists.

With the main action over for tonight, the amateur magician had wanted to check up on the blond teenager and see for himself whether or not he'd made it out unscathed. Fortunately Kaito had found his chosen spot this time before the heist already, so he had been able to keep tabs on him and lead any and all hitmen away from rather than towards it (at least he hoped to have done so), but he still yearned to ensure the detective's continued life personally.

XXX

And that was exactly what had found him there once more, standing in front of the detective and a little bit unsure about how to proceed. For his defense, it was a rather extraordinary arrangement that the detective had managed to prepare. Extraordinary circumstances called for extraordinary handling. Now, if only he could make his mind up whether he wanted to go on with caution or plunge right in.

… Was this… strange meeting on middle ground … considered a truce, then? That was probably one of the first things he'd have to clear up before anything else could take place. So he continued speaking before the detective thought of something else to say.

"What kind of tea do you have?" Well, he could still ask after he'd gotten the "basics" out of the way. And it might just be considered rude to talk about "working matters" before doing small talk.

XXX

**CHANGE BACK TO HAKUBA SAGURU'S POV**

After the magician dressed in white had left, the detective was honestly surprised at how well the meeting had gone. The thief clearly was less than comfortable extending his trust to the sleuth, but what is not now, could still well be after a few more meetings like these. Hakuba had not missed, nevertheless, the way the thief had addressed their "tea sessions" as a kind of "middle ground," nor had he missed the sense of warning that the kaitô had conveyed in the words he'd spoken. Apparently he was wary, on his guard – about what, though?

It wasn't the "The Task Force might not be too agreeable to your frequent tea parties with an internationally wanted criminal and might kick you out if not arrest you for aiding and abetting a wanted felon" – kind of warning, that much was for certain. It did seem more… urgent; more deadly, if this ridiculous thing could be said for the thief's words.

Also, in the same words, an altogether different meaning was hidden, as well. In the detective's ears, it had come down to something like

"A truce, detective?" ( _Here, he imagined the mad hatter from Wonderland, all clad in Kid's costume and with that infuriating grin in place, asking this question while extending a hand towards the detective, against all conventions and reason_.)

Thus, the "middle-ground" had been formed, with its very own rules in place – obviously rather different ones from those that were valid on a heist. Unfortunately, the detective still had no idea what those "rules" consisted of. A truce, yes, but at what price?

Pensively Saguru regarded the tea set. Still, only one cup had been touched and drunk from. The cookies hadn't been touched by the other teenager, either. Sighing, the teenager picked up the cup, drank the rest of the already-cooled down tea and got up. It didn't do to dawdle.

XXX

XXX

XXX

Four meetings later, the detective was still left wondering why the thief even bothered with coming to the tea sessions he'd prepared. It was obvious – to both parties – that, had he not "let himself be met," the detective most probably never would have met him at those and would have been left drinking his tea all by himself. As it was, the detective still drunk the tea by himself, but the thief had at least deigned to come a little closer to the prepared table every time.

It almost seemed as though Hakuba had set out to tame a wild animal. Quite frankly, though, the detective had to admit, it certainly felt like it. Kid wouldn't be someone who was persuaded to do anything by anyone. If he didn't want to do something, good luck trying to make him do it. So it was no wonder that the thief had only scurried closer bit by bit all those meetings.

On the fifth meeting after the thief had shown his face for the first time at those little get-togethers of theirs, the moonlighting magician had finally sat down in the chair Hakuba had prepared especially for him. Saguru felt like he'd made significant progress, too, so it was no little wonder that a bubbly feeling enveloped him and he was on the verge of giggling once more. Not that the Hakuba heir would do anything that undignified, ever.

Instead, he settled for the question that he'd found himself asking the most often at the beginnings of their meetings.

"How was the heist?"

He didn't really expect anything in answer to that; it was just an opener for small talk after all. So he was all the more surprised when the thief, instead of saying anything in response, ventured closer to the table and slowly let himself sink down in the prepared chair opposite the detective. Hakuba's eyes felt like they couldn't become any bigger, his mouth hanging open slightly in bafflement. Had the thief just…? Momentary silence reigned. It was so quiet on that nondescript rooftop that you could have heard a pin drop.

A smirk began spreading over the larcenist's face, before he opened his mouth and shattered the silence to pieces, "You asked me something, I believe?"

XXX

It had been a real challenge, he mused, to keep his composure in face of having the thief extend his fragile trust to not having the detective grab him or invisible handcuffs fall down around him while he was sitting in that chair. This was progress! Hakuba had felt ridiculously similar to a psychologist in the moment that he had thought this and only just managed to suppress the insane urge to start giggling which would rather soon most assuredly deteriorate into laughing.

He did wonder about the thief's reasons, though. What could have made him come closer towards the tea table and simply sit down like that? That, however, wasn't as pressing a question for the detective as the following appeared to be: Was it even possible to keep one's composure in front of the Kaitô Kid, outside of a heist's settings?

XXX

XXX

XXX

**Hachi/8**

XXX

XXX

XXX

Again, he was sitting in front of a tea set, at the same foldable table and on the very same foldable chair that he'd managed to at least put a cushion on this time. He'd had time that evening to properly prepare everything once more, so he'd thought: "Why not?" If the cushion just managed to add to the hilarity of the "heist night" by way of having a flowery pattern or not, wasn't up for debate any time soon.

Hakuba felt he was entitled to some eccentricity, having met up face-to-face via tea sessions with the thief more often now than he'd met him at a heist. It was a good excuse, anyways. And, he'd officially decided to ignore the motive on the cushion, which had somehow made its way into his bag despite him having removed it several times already. He'd found out that his housekeeper had a rather stubborn streak, too, when it came to things she absolutely wanted him to do.

"How was the heist?"

Not that he expected an answer to that any more. The last few times the thief had danced around the topic; He'd switched to another subject, told the detective about the most insignificant details of things that the sleuth had never even cared to find out and all around not told him anything about what he'd asked him. Imagine his surprise and momentary loss of coherent speech when the other opted to answer him this once,

"As expected. Say, tantei-san, what would you do if you had found an immensely powerful item, something that could change everyone's lives?"

Not having anticipated this kind of answer at all (the magician still was unpredictable, dang it!), the detective's brain at first struggled a little to catch up. Thus, the only word escaping him was, "How?"

With a frown marring his face, Hakuba contemplated the information he'd just been given. The thief had found an "immensely powerful item," then? _How in the world_ had he come about such a thing? And what _ **goddamn idiot**_ had told the thief just what it was that he was apparently holding in his hands? _There was no telling what he'd do with it!_

He knew it was rude, but he found himself still staring incredulously at the teenager opposite of him for what felt like half an eternity. The white-dressed gentleman-thief had meanwhile assumed a more and more relaxed position, juggling around a few small juggling balls with his right hand, resting the left one on the table.

It was a magician's position, the sleuth realized in the rearmost confines of his brain absentmindedly. Both hands were lying "open on the table," so to speak, facing the entertainer's audience and showing that they weren't doing anything untoward. A gesture of trust, if it could be called that. And the larcenist's posture was getting more and more lax the longer he kept staring. What that meant, the detective didn't want to find out at that very moment.

Back to the matter at hand, then. The thief had found an item that could do something as powerful as to change everyone's lives? How would it change everyone's lives? Just what item had he stumbled upon?

So … did that mean…

Hakuba had trouble getting his brain back into gear. This could very well be one of the very few moments of speechlessness that existed in the young high school detective's life; nothing for the magician to be proud of – and yet, he detected a little bit of smugness in the other's posture, too. Before the thief could comment on this, the sleuth decided to reboot his thinking facilities and answer the larcenist's question. More or less, at least.

"I would… I do not know what I would do with such a… an item. I only know that it should most definitely not get into the wrong hands." With that, he regaled the thief with a meaningful look that was to impart on him all the seriousness of what the possession of this… doubtlessly questionable "treasure"… entailed. If such a thing even existed in the first place. Which was, he was reassured to notice, quite unlikely. Nevertheless, the thief seemed to think it existed. Otherwise: why would he ask such a question? "If it even exists," he murmured to himself, before adding, "Why would you ask?"

"Oh, it was only a hypothesis of mine. Nothing to be concerned about." The nonchalant air that the moonlighting magician took on next was nothing if not baffling. It didn't fool anyone, and both very well knew this. Would that mean that such an item honestly existed? Hakuba had trouble wrapping his head around this novel concept.

It sounded so far-fetched, the son of the Superintendent General didn't know what was more surprising that night: the fact that the thief appeared to answer his questions – and had decided to give straight answers to all of them, actually – or the fact that there was an item out there ( _he glanced at the thief shortly; it was more than possible that this item was a gem or hidden within one, given the thief's track record_ ) which would apparently decide the fate of the world as he knew it.

(He knew this was a dramatic way of phrasing it, but he didn't know a thing about the thief that could not be called thus. If the magician managed to attract trouble, it was almost granted that this would happen on a world-wide scale rather than locally. This _was_ an _internationally wanted criminal_ they were talking about.)

What the _ **hell**_ had the magician gotten himself mixed up in?

XXX

XXX

XXX

When Baaya, his housekeeper, had asked him with a definitely-mischievous smile about how that night's heist had gone, he didn't know how to respond other than say that "It was… most exciting. I think I will retire for now. If you could turn down the volume of the TV, I would be much obliged. Thank you."

That night had most definitely been… exciting. It wasn't even a fitting description, he found, for what had transpired between the two of them. They stood on opposite sides of the "fence," that was true. And yet, they appeared to have the same morals at that. How in the world could the thief hold this balance and not teeter too much to one side or the other at all?

The thief had, as of the moment that he'd deflected Hakuba's question, diverted their conversation so far as to have completely brought it off track. In the end, they were both talking (though, in all honesty, it was more of a monologue of the magician's) about simple things as the uses of a wafer paper packet – just how they'd gotten there from their original thread of conversation, the sleuth couldn't recall in detail any more.

He'd found himself facing an undoubtedly against all reason and sanity in his presence obviously very relaxed moonlighting magician who'd tried entertaining him with a few of the simpler pieces of legerdemain that didn't do much to calm the sleuth's mind at all. A whirlwind of motion was what his brain's activity could be described then. It went even so far that the Hakuba heir most passively saw the thief off; the other had obviously noticed something wrong by then and was exuding – _can it be possible?_ – Worried vibes in his direction, of all things possible!

The inane urge to giggle appeared to be the only thing that was reoccurring every single time that the thief (or he himself) sprung something new on him.

Tonight's revelation had been… enlightening, in the worst sense of the word. Even then, he was only scratching the surface of what the thief had experienced, he thought to himself tiredly. How many more exhausting hours filled with the insane magician's mad cackling would he have to survive only to get closer to the truth, little by little, step by step, as he'd already been doing by having those tea sessions? It was something new that he'd need to get used to, and soon. Otherwise he may as well fall behind.

Sighing, he concluded that the only thing he could say with any certainty at all was that that night had rocked his world, and quite literally at that.


	2. Sharing Cookies And Cream~!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving on:
> 
> Dear reader,
> 
> this second part is kind of a funny plot bunny that has been planted in my head upon reading a certain review of the past so-called oneshot only one page earlier…
> 
> That is why I invite you to once more prepare a nicely steaming cup of tea, grab some cookies to dump into it, lean back and make yourself comfortable in your chair. It certainly helps getting into the right mood for this continuation-of-sorts.
> 
> Additional information: This is only a possible (and I say this veeery cautiously *prodding the idea with a stick from a safe distance away*) continuation of the last page's ficlet; that one can (and was originally intended to) be seen as a oneshot; meaning there actually wasn't supposed to be any continuation at all. In other words, you are happily invited to pretend this following page (and the story on it) does not exist if you do not happen to like what is written here.
> 
> It is dedicated to Athina Dark-Angel of Death on ff.net : thanks for giving my plot bunnies this idea! I quite liked the thread of thought that followed my reading your review… which is why – ta-daa! – yet another (joyously welcomed even if absolutely unplanned) fanfiction output on my part. And it is also dedicated to Abe Lincoln Lover, thank you very much for your guess at what the numbers mean!
> 
> Here's a hint for my dear readers: the numbers at the beginning of each section of the chapters are part of the Japanese number game, Goroawase. Yes, the numbers in this chapter also have a meaning.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this second installment of my tea party story!
> 
> Have fun!

**Sharing Cookies And Cream~!**

**Disclaimer** : Nothing belonging to me excepting the plot bunny. Which has been inspired by a review this time, so I can't actually say it's mine, either. Do people have rights on plot bunnies? Poor little bunnies, only getting space to run free in people's heads… do they at least get a vote or a veto right? Somebody should write a fanfiction about that – that'd be one I'd definitely be interested in...

XXX

XXX

XXX

**Hachi/8**

XXX

XXX

XXX

" _Certainly, please do join me. I'm having tea. Feel free to pour yourself a cup, as well." Invitingly, he gestured towards the by then well-known second cup he'd once more laid out on the table. The midnight blue cup with its flowery pattern on it did not look as out of place on that rooftop any more as it had at the beginning of their little tea sessions. By then the thief's repeated refusals to let the detective pour the tea for him had been accepted as just another thing to add to the thief's mystery. Paranoia, check._

_As the figure came closer to the table, Hakuba concentrated on the task of filling his own cup with the liquid. Cookies were lying in a bowl just besides the sugar. He'd brought all sorts of different cookies, again. Some were leftovers from Baaya's tea session with some of the neighbors' ladies just that afternoon, some of his own preference Saguru had bought just that afternoon. He frowned in sudden unease. The detective couldn't remember buying the cookies._

_Where and when that afternoon had he bought those again? Why wasn't his memory dragging forth the information? He knew he couldn't – wouldn't – have forgotten it if it had happened just that day… Goosebumps threatened to make their way crawling up his back._

_And in the next moment that was irrelevant, for the thief had gotten into the seat opposite of him. Languidly, the moonlighting magician almost seemed like a cat as he melted more and more into the cushioned foldable chair Hakuba had brought up to that rooftop with him. Yet, something was off._

_The steam rose up from the tea cup he now cradled in his hands, to fend off the cool breeze that was blowing away all the clouds that night and also to ground himself. Why wasn't it a full moon yet, he wondered idly to himself, wasn't there supposed to be one that very night? He did feel almost detached from what was going on at that moment. Whenever he tried to get his mind on the thing that really "should matter" at that instant, his thoughts grew blurry and indistinct all of a sudden. Just what was it that felt so wrong in this scene?_

_Simple, direct thoughts appeared to be more conducive to his peace of mind; they did not disappear from right in front of him and he could still function – meaning react appropriately to any given situation. As if the situation at hand wasn't weird enough, his thoughts and their immediate effacement did not help matters. At all._

_Focusing his eyes on the steam coming from the cup instead of thinking too much on nothing and risking the threat of having his thoughts' red thread dissolve, he almost didn't catch the quiet words of the person opposite of him._

" _They did steal some in the end, didn't they?" The thief said this almost ruefully, as though mourning an actual person rather than a cookie or two that had gone missing. When the detective looked down at the bowl with the biscuits, he noticed that indeed, yes, it seemed to be lacking quite a few of the sweet chocolate-chip cookies that he distinctly remembered putting there earlier. How come he was able to remember that little detail but had no recollection whatsoever of when or where he'd bought them?_

_Strange._

_It was – off._

_But so was the thief. Lifting his eyes slightly, the detective noted that his opposite by then had adopted a blank face, a mask to hide his emotions and thoughts all at once. He should have grown used to seeing it on his declared rival's face by then, however it stung to be thought of as untrustworthy by someone who – by all rights – should_ know _him by then. Why would he orchestrate all these secret meetings, having tea with the thief if he still intended to turn him in? Well, at least he should be looking more relaxed than he was showing the sleuth right then, that the detective was sure of._

_In the next second, Hakuba was almost certain that he'd just contemplated something that was not valid for their interaction anymore. There wasn't any question of him turning the other in. He'd thought he'd made that absolutely clear to the thief already…? Hadn't he even told him that when the magician had asked him at one of their previous meetings just where he stood in the "grand scheme of things"? What was going on here?_

_Straining his eyes, the sleuth's eyes adjusted to the little light that the city around them along with the almost full moon threw at the two of them and he only just managed to glimpse underneath the shadows that the top hat managed to throw over the white-clad magician's face before his quarry adjusted his position anew, hiding his face anew in the shadows coming from nowhere and everywhere at once._

_What he saw was something he knew for a fact that his classmate didn't have._

_What he saw was something that he was sure that his classmate couldn't possibly have acquired within one day only – or, at least, that he was 99.9 per cent sure that his competitor would not ever wear a fake one of while in that white suit._

_What he saw was the hint of a well-groomed moustache in the deep shadows that obscured the thief's face._

_Suddenly, his world tipped sideways, leaving the teenage-detective severely disoriented and confused._

He woke up in a sweat. Opening his eyes, the detective reoriented himself and discovered that he was lying on the floor beside his bed, tangled up in his sheets and sleeping with his head propped up on the book that he'd put on his nightstand the evening before. He quickly concluded that he'd fallen down, taken the book with him and proceeded to fall asleep once more. Only when he'd sat up blearily, did he realize the time. It was around then that he also realized that he'd be inordinately late for school.

Fifteen minutes later, after having run downstairs in a sprint to grab a short breakfast, he saw the calendar hanging innocently on the wall above the fridge – and that it was a Saturday in early springtime, meaning no school for at least one more day.

XXX

XXX

XXX

" _You might want to add different cookies the next time. They get stolen every so often, after all." He was sitting in front of the thief, again. Right._

" _Maybe these troublesome birds won't touch them the next time. What with the crows getting more and more anxious each and every day, however, I would advise you to steer clear of wide, open spaces to have those tea sessions of yours, should you want to continue." The magician was looking at him straight on, as though he was a letter that the other was reading – there seemed to be no space where he could hide- What? Why did he get the urge to hide now?_

" _After all, crows like to steal." The person opposite him kept his voice easy-going, as if they were discussing the weather or the neighbor's new lawn fence instead of something as important as these secret meetings of theirs. Wait. What was it about the cookies that made him want to justify his actions again? And why did that phrase seem oddly familiar to him?_

" _And what they steal, they never give back." Hakuba had a weird flashback to another rooftop scene, just like this one and yet different, with a different – or was it the same? – thief sitting right in front of him and speaking these selfsame words. When the kaitô went on, the sleuth realized it was the very same thief that he'd seen in another of his dreams already._

" _But I have abused your hospitality too much already, haven't I? It would not do for me to be staying much longer. I shall take my leave now, detective."_

_But… Kaitô Kid called him Tantei-san, didn't he? Without so much as a further word, the magician in white tipped his head and disappeared into air – right in front of his eyes._

_Wait. Was he dreaming, then? He looked around, but didn't see any mirrors or anything. No smoke, either. Nothing. He closed his eyes tightly._

Upon opening them again, he found himself in his own bedroom, lying peacefully on the bed in his pajamas.

No falling out of bed, no sweat and no tangling in the sheets. This had to be the most goosebumps-inducing waking up he had experienced after one of those dreams _ever_.

No tricks, no traps, no magic. It felt decidedly wrong to the sleuth to just… _wake up_ like this after having chatted with the Kaitô Kid in a dream. With _that_ Kaitô Kid in a dream. That day, he went about his morning routine and his daily activities mechanically, his mind being too far away to be bothered.

It had unsettled him so much that even his classmates noticed.

XXX

"What's up with you?" It was during break time that his alleged tea partner and quarry leaned against his table and touched upon his absentmindedness. Hakuba had been in the middle of eating the bento box that Baaya had prepared for him. He looked up, frankly a bit confused as to what had instigated this question.

Kaito was looking at him from the corner of his eye, waiting for an answer. Around them, the others were chatting animatedly and having their lunch. Anything they would say would most probably not be noticed by anyone of their classmates.

It seemed a bit strange that Nakamori-chan wasn't there, but when he looked around in search of the brown-headed girl, he couldn't make her out anywhere in the class. When had she left? He then glanced up at Kaito questioningly and the other responded nonchalantly by saying "Oh, she's off with Keiko, doing whatever."

Regarding the sleuth with lidded eyes, he continued, "It's not like we're glued together, you know?"

Shaking his head slightly as though to abandon the notion, the detective said, "That's not what I meant. Sorry."

Their… more peaceful… interactions in class had grown in number – not noticeably, but bit by bit every week that he'd been holding the midnight tea parties with the larcenist as his guest. His other classmates didn't even remark upon it any more that Kuroba made time to speak with him alone; in the beginning they'd look at them but go back to their own conversations when it was obvious that no trick would be sprung on the blond and they wouldn't have to go find cover on short notice so as not to become a victim themselves.

That didn't mean that he was less of a victim to the class clown's pranks than the other people in their class, it just meant that "normal conversations" between the two of them without having anything explode were possible. It would be small things that made the magician talk to him a little bit every day – until he found himself having talked with the brunette almost as much as with the inspector's daughter, her being the only other person to see to it that she spoke with him on a regular basis in their class.

"Seriously, what's the matter with you?" The magician had turned around and was examining him as if he was a patient of sorts. Frowning, he felt as though he had to justify something in front of his classmate – but that was ridiculous, wasn't it?

"Whatever do you mean? There's nothing wrong with me!" Well, maybe he'd said that a bit more forcefully than necessary, but he'd gotten the message across nonetheless.

Averting his eyes, the self-proclaimed class clown only said, "I didn't mean to imply that." He was looking out the window by then, as though there was something more interesting out there than could be found in both the classroom and their conversation. Sighing, the brunette only told him, "Look, if you want to talk about it, I'm here. If you don't want to talk about it, fine. But don't go worrying Aoko while you're at it." And with that, he made his way to the front and out of their class room, leaving the detective to ponder his words as well as the dream he'd had just the night before in his absence.

Deep in contemplation, he didn't even notice the rest of the day pass by. Maybe it would be prudent to mention his dreams to Kaitô Kid… or to Kuroba Kaito. Or both of them. Either. Whatever. He saw a headache coming on already. What would that change?

XXX

XXX

XXX

It was a few nights later that the detective was quite fed up with having this particular goosebumps-inducing dream over and over again with no change noticeable whatsoever and finally made up his mind to just outright mention them to his elusive midnight tea partner. Well, not outright mention them, per say, but something that – to his mind, at least – amounted to the same result.

Close to the end of their meeting – long after the heist was over – he dared to say what was on his mind regarding the matters discussed in this dream. Only after he'd already said his share however, did he wonder just what kinds of consequences this new development might bring with it and what he was signing himself up for, exactly, by saying these words.

"Right, you better take your leave now. We wouldn't want the Crows to get anxious now, would we?

Goodnight."

Not letting any hesitation about his choice of words be seen – they did remind him eerily of what that _other thief_ had told him just the night before –, he set about clearing the table. Kid, on the other hand, had frozen. The detective could see it in his posture, how with his words he'd brought about a change in the other's attitude; nothing had changed outwardly, but the atmosphere and the feeling in the air was different now.

Something in their interaction with each other had altered course and was now steering somewhere else entirely.

No-man's-land.

The Bermuda Triangle would be nothing in comparison.

"Crows?" the word was spoken delicately, carefully balanced and with the feeling of a gamble and barely-avoided risk hanging in the air long after the sounds were gone. That one syllable flowed over the thief's lips as though he didn't use that particular word very often in other people's company. And maybe that was the case.

Not one to be deterred once he'd decided on a course of action, the detective bravely ventured on, making sure to make his utterances seem careless and his attitude suitable for someone knowing something that he would possibly be better of not knowing. He also made certain to keep his voice and sentences vague enough, open enough to leave room for interpretation.

"Yes, sure. The Crows. They always steal the cookies, don't they?"

Somehow the sleuth was sure this utterance harboured far different implications and meanings altogether for the illustrious thief's ears than for himself. He knew that the thief had to then slowly digest, meaning to pick apart and carefully reassemble, the information he'd been given, before he would even consider responding. So Hakuba bid his time cleaning and stowing away his supplies with the limited cleaning tools available to him up there, leaving the thief to stare at the cookie bowl unseeingly for a few moments.

"What makes you say so? Did they bother you before?" He got the feeling that it wasn't real birds they were talking about any more.

"No, they didn't bother me much. But I've seen some of them sneak around the premises of the museum earlier." Hakuba was conscious of his gambling here. It didn't matter that he hadn't truly seen anyone sneak around at that night's heist location, what did matter was who they were in relation to the thief and that the thief believed him – maybe even so much as to reveal who they were in general. And where they stood, he amended belatedly in his mind.

"They bother _you_ , right?" in the sleuth's mind, this was a rhetoric question, really, no answer necessary. But this just served to throw up more and more of them: How could anyone _bother_ Kaitô Kid on one of his heists? What annoyed the thief so much as to be _bothered_ by it? Or maybe it wasn't that he was only "annoyed" by what those… Crows, for lack of a better word, were doing. What was the magician so much against that he not only took notice but that it outright _bothered_ him when other people did it?

"They take lives and hurt people, don't they?" Hakuba wasn't conscious of his wording until after he'd said it. Were they really this careless and indifferent about lives in general that they took them when they pleased? Nevertheless, the thief's by then rigid posture appeared to confirm his suspicions. It was like a light had been switched on in his mind. The sleuth could see clearly just what they'd been talking about all this time. Finally he had all the puzzle pieces he needed to be able to see the whole picture. The pieces assembled themselves to a whole in no time at all in front of his mental eye.

He didn't like what he saw, didn't like it at all.

Frowning in consternation and sudden understanding, he plowed onwards. "How many times was it that they shot you and you couldn't duck in time?"

XXX

The truth hurt sometimes, the detective thought to himself idly after their chat.

 _Chat_ … it was more a duel of questions and answers, the thief on the one side forthcoming with revelations that made the hairs on the sleuth's skin stand on end and at the same time withholding information that Hakuba privately thanked him that he hadn't been told. Sometimes, it was better not to know something, even if it was the truth. Sometimes it sufficed to know that there was more – more information, more things happening than were recorded by the police, more to the thief than met the eye.

He wanted to know – some day. Not now. At this point in time, he himself didn't feel ready for what lay beneath the shadows that the thief so loved to hide in, what lay behind all the masks and the misleading words the larcenist offered him. Saguru knew without a doubt that he wouldn't like the thief's tale any more than he liked tonight's revelation.

It was clear to him that the magician had been shot at – even if he hadn't said so himself and diverted the conversation every time it came up – several times already. Most probably he'd also been hit, though the Hakuba heir couldn't make out just how many times. The thought was a sobering one. Kaitô Kid: shot. It seemed almost laughable, ridiculous, that the thief-in-white would be shot, of all things possible, instead of handcuffed and arrested.

This put a much more disillusioning perspective on his constant trying to outwit his classmate and find evidence that proved he was the Kaitô Kid. Suddenly – now that Saguru was informed about another party whose interest didn't only lay in capturing and arresting the kaitô, but who wanted the pesky nuisance _dead_ – he wasn't certain just what would happen once the phantom thief/part time magician was arrested. Would he be dead within hours, days in jail? All of a sudden the Hakuba heir was grateful that he'd found another way to _talk_ with the moonlighting magician, one that didn't include antagonizing the other.

It was later, way later that night when he was already in bed that he found himself properly thinking about what he'd deduced and remembering that _other_ revelation that the thief had bestowed on him of his own accord. What if…?

Earth-shattering was an adjective that might be the closest to what he thought of the deduction he pierced together from all that he'd been told by the larcenist. Yet he felt himself justified in complaining to the white-clad thief the next time they met. Just why did that magician have to make it a habit to surprise him and make him speechless with these kinds of things almost every time they met?

It went almost without saying that the detective found himself lying awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling for a lot longer than he'd originally intended.

XXX

XXX

XXX

**Kyû/Ku/9**

XXX

XXX

XXX

" _You've made quite the impression, haven't you?" The face across from him wasn't seen underneath the hat's shadows, however he got the feeling that the thief was in one of his better moods this time. He would almost say that the other was being… mischievous, if that was the right word for it, – well, more so than usually, at least._

 _It was that_ other thief _again, this time. Hakuba made certain to differentiate between the two. The more he saw of the thief in his dreams, the more he thought that he costume was the only thing that the two had in common, appearance-wise. As for manners and attitude, however… as far as those went, the two shared more than he thought was possible._

_Of course, he'd known that there'd been another thief before Kuroba took up the mantle. It had just slipped his mind to do more than examine what he was presented with by the thief. In retrospect, that seemed like a truly idiotic beginner's mistake._

_He was a detective! He should know to do research when presented with a case! In his defense, it was a larcenist that he'd set out to catch, not a murderer, which is why he'd taken his sweet time doing research. It didn't excuse that he'd done almost nothing but analyze the heists that happened so far, but it was something, at least._

_It wasn't a pretty admission but he conceded that he had a long way to go and much to learn still. A mental grimace accompanied the thought._

_He'd only taken a cursory glance at his classmate, attitude, mannerisms and all, and pretty much immediately decided he was a suspicious person, especially when he'd learned that the amateur magician was close friends with the inspector's daughter and had thus almost free access to any and all heist locations, at one point even having been_ asked _to help catch Kid by the inspector himself!_

 _As for nowadays… Hakuba almost felt like he was…_ intruding _… of all things possible, as though he was going somewhere private, somewhere intimate, somewhere that was off-limits if he wanted for their friendship? camaraderie? to stay intact. That was his most important reason for why he hadn't delved into the thief's background any more than he already had._

_But he was getting off-topic. Ah well. You couldn't change the past, right? What was left but to hurl yourself into the future?_

_Humorously, the magician-thief continued as though nothing was the matter when his first exclamation was met with silence, "Not as good as that other one, but still. You are closer."_

_Lifting an eyebrow in an unspoken challenge, he went on, "Beware, what's coming to you in the future is different. Will you be ready for this? Please consider your answer carefully."_

_The silence this time around was almost palpable. Heavy was the air that he breathed in, heavy the things that bore both his heart and mind at all times nowadays._

_In the end, the answer was as easy as to pour himself a new cup of tea had been. Grimly, he stared at the person opposite of him. Mentor, Family member or whatever he may be to the Kaitô Kid active now. His answer would have been the same, he knew, had it been Kaito that sat in front of him right then. And, he reflected, his answer was as British as his heritage was, especially because he spoke the second half in Japanese. All of his ancestors' pride would be tied into this._

_With a smirk, he said, "In for a penny, in for a pound. I made my decision."_

XXX

XXX

XXX

Kaito was staring up at the ceiling. It was boring, not having anything to do but wait. The plans for the upcoming heist have already been finished, as has been homework and the housework. His mother was absent, again, being in Kyoto visiting an old friend of hers this time. Aoko and her father had gone out for dinner, so calling her up was no choice, either. That left him with nothing more to do.

Really, sometimes it would just be convenient to have a sort of anti-boredom plan or plaything randomly lying around in his vicinity for whenever he needed one. That reminded him! He could still – dang the thought – brush up on a few of the updates on laws that concerned his night-time profession. Thus, with a decidedly unfavourable expression on his face, he reached for the booklets and started leafing through them.

In the end it wasn't his fault that, about half an hour later, his eyes drooped and he slowly but surely leaned downwards to rest his head – only for a few minutes, mind – on the booklet that he was reading and he promptly fell asleep.

_... where was he again? Ah, right. He was on the rooftop. Anytime now, he should be able to hear Nakamori-keibu's healthy, loud voice, bellowing about yet another failed capture. And there'd be sirens. And then he'd look for Tantei-san's location and make his way there. He'd use the shadows, this time. The last time he'd used his hang glider – it had almost been reckless, even for him._

_Hopefully, Snake hadn't picked up on Tantei-san's little after-heist tea sessions with him. And hopefully the detective had been able to choose a better position than last time. Last time had been just a little bit too close to the heist location (and the shootings) for comfort._

_Well, at least this time's heist target was lying safely stowed away in his backpack. Wait, what had he been after this time again? Was it a gem, a statue, a small figurine? He... couldn't remember. His memory had grown... annoyingly and worryingly hazy around the edges._

_He frowned. It had never failed him yet. Why was it doing this now? But seeing as trying to remember only brought an uncomfortable pain to his head, he decided on a better course of action: not to think about it until it was necessary. After all, it wasn't important for the now-and-here what exactly he'd been after this fine evening, was it? He could always simply check once he'd touched down on that roof where the Hakuba heir was sitting, drinking tea. Right?_

_So that was where he went. Guided by his instincts (for he couldn't actually bring himself to remember where exactly the tea-set-up had been, this time), he pretty much followed his nose, so to speak. And he hoped it wouldn't lead him on a wild-goose-chase._

_Ah, there they were, the sirens. They were a welcome, familiar sound to his ears, tonight. At least one of the things that were working how they should be. If he'd known he'd ever take comfort of police sirens – of all the things out there that he could take comfort from – he'd have recorded them a long time ago. Making a mental note to do so at his earliest convenience, the thief made his way onto the rooftop that the tea session was to be held this time. Only now that he thought about it did he notice that he indeed was wearing the suit that marked him as the Kaitô Kid. Funny, how that worked._

_Not letting anything disturb his peace of mind tonight, he nimbly climbed over the edge of the roof and had a small smile graze his face when his gaze met his current host. His eyes however, landed on a rather strange sight upon him entering the scene, for it wasn't the detective that was sitting there, lounging comfortably in the chair, but someone else entirely._

_It was a person who was shrouded in darkness and it seemed almost as though the shadows were moving around him, darting here and there and around the person's upheld finger in a friendly gesture. What the hell?_

" _Is something the matter?" a bass voice not quite called out to him. Whoever that was, he was a friend. Well, as much as anyone who didn't shoot at him at first sight could be called a friend, he conceded in his mind. The voice, on the other hand... there was something familiar about that voice, something special that drew at his heart; a long-lost friend, an old, forgotten memory. Try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to remember._

" _Ah, I am sorry, but I did expect someone else here. And you are...?" Not the politest of his approaches, but as long as it worked... and, to be fair, he did feel a little out of his depth here, too._

_A smile scurried over the mysterious person's face as he replied, "... not anyone as important, I would imagine." A short pause, in which the shadows around his mysterious opposite shifted only so much as to let him glimpse the colour of the lower part of the suit which he was wearing. White. And blue socks that disappeared in sparkling white dress shoes. What the-?_

" _A word of caution, however, may not go amiss here, I believe. Do believe me when I say that_ they _have become far more active recently and that you should better be found in a detective's presence more often than not in the close future."_

_What in heaven's name was going on...? Speechless was probably the best description for what his reaction was. Like a bird, he tilted his head to the side with a questioning hum, while inside, his mind was whirring._

_His conversational partner, however, gave off the air of one apologetic, and, instead of elucidating his warning, he only said, "Excuse me, but I cannot say more on this. I have been breaching rules and bending laws as much as I was allowed already. Please heed my warning. I am sorry I cannot help more."_

_It was only when the setting, the scenery and the sole figure sitting there at that table grew blurry, that Kaito finally put the pieces together and realized just who it was that had been speaking to him. In response to an as-of-yet unasked question – and before everything floated away just like that – he managed to get out the words, "I miss you too. Love you, Otou-san." with a bittersweet smile on his face before everything went dark._

When he woke up again, it was with a severe headache, and the feeling of danger looming just outside of his eye range; which, frankly, irritated him to no end. Sighing, he collected both the booklet and himself. It was beyond ten already, so going to bed was acceptable in his book. Putting the booklet onto his desk to be set aside for another perusal in the (hopefully later) future, he made his way over to the bed. As he'd already brushed his teeth and gotten ready for bed before falling asleep in that slightly cramp-inducing position over that booklet (he rubbed his neck in annoyance at that), he could just about fall into bed without further ado. One more thought went through his head, before he was out for the count that day.

" _Otou-san, what am I to do?"_

XXX

XXX

XXX

_He was running. Why was he running? The stars whizzed past while he was trying to understand where he was running to – and what he was running away from in the first place. Or, those weren't stars. Those were neon lights; lighting up the area like it was Christmas again. To him, though, they were stars, nonsensical lights that pointed him the right way. Left. Straight ahead, then the third right. There._

_Jumping over the railing of the upper end of the staircase, he sprinted down. It led him to a small place – open, easily visible, must hide, now! – which he was already moving away from in the time that it took him to form these thoughts. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught a glimpse of something sparkling black about 500 meters behind him. Sniper rifles. Great._

_Like a rabbit, he chose an intricate course through the district's smaller side streets and alleyways. Hopefully, he'll be able to lose them soon. Clutching tonight's gem, put in a case that was wrapped in a dark cloth as protection, safely under his left arm he_ ran _._

XXX

_It could have been ten minutes, an hour or more before he finally let himself slow down. Catching his breath underneath a lamp post, he looked around once more. Phew. Looked like he'd gotten rid of them. And it seemed as though he was closer to the JR station to go back to Tokyo, too. Win-win on both accounts! A triumphant smile span over his face in no time._

_Pulling out a folded map of the area (tourist info centers always were the most informative places to go!) he conceded that, well, it still was some ways to go. Judging from the weather forecast, the wind should be decent for a little flight, too. And, ah, there was a hospital placed right around the corner. Shifting a little, he could just make out the helicopter landing place from where he stood._

_Who was he to say no to such a convenient set-up?_

XXX

 _With horror Hakuba could only just see the Kid – Kaito, a quiet voice in his head informed him snidely – get hit by the sniper before the glider turned sharply and descended at an alarming speed. There wasn't much more he could do himself other than run towards the most likely point of impact, carrying both a heavy heart and the knowledge that he'd_ known.

He'd known…!

XXX

Both thief and detective lay awake in their respective beds for a long time after they woke up from this nightmare, neither knowing about the other's night plight.

XXX

XXX

XXX

 _The next time that Hakuba was conscious that he was in fact in a dream and sitting opposite_ that thief _once more, he had already poured himself a cup of tea and was cradling it in both hands in his lap, watching the steam rise up tranquilly._

" _Help, would you? You have gotten good at that. You have come close."_

_All of a sudden, the sleuth's mind was filled with an irrational calm, something he'd never felt come over him before in the face of such an illogical phenomenon. What came out of his mouth next did not bear any relation to the thief's sentences at all, but was a new idea entirely._

" _You are dead, aren't you?"_

_It had ghosted through his thoughts more than once already, the notion that all this time he'd been talking to someone who'd died already, who was gone, but still there. The notion that there'd been someone sitting in front of him whose purpose in life had been as great as to keep him tied to earth, the real world, this side, or whatever else it may be called still._

_When he – just barely – understood that the other had let out a quiet snort at that, his world tilted a bit to the side. Had that been because he didn't know that he was dead (poor soul) or because he thought the detective was wrong?_

_Dumbfounded, the sleuth wondered when his sense of reality had slipped so much that it merrily went down a slide together with his logic and rationality. Who knew where that slide went, the only thing he was sure of was that he'd probably never see them again in the thief's presence – in any of the thieves', really. What was it about the two magicians that made him doubt his own sanity and the hold that he had on the truth?_

_Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn't catch what the thief was saying next. "You detectives… never think to not take a closer look, to – for once – accept what you get as just that, do you?" What did that have to do with…? What was the thief playing at? Before Hakuba could form even one counter thought, the other had gone on already._

" _I do not feel like justifying myself to you in this room. Let us say that here, I am just as real as you."_

_A frown marred his face, as he contemplated what in heaven's name the white-clad magician could have meant with these words. What did he mean, "in this room"? Hastily, he looked around him, making sure that yes, they were sitting on top of a rooftop still, there even being a light breeze that played with his hair, almost in a gesture of reassurance. An eyebrow went up in the blond detective's face._

_Was the magician hallucinating? In a dream? Was that even possible? The other eyebrow joined the first. What he didn't know was how to go on from there. But then that wasn't necessary any more – someone seemed to have laid the words he'd need right into his mouth. He only had to speak them. Nevertheless, the next few, rather sarcastic words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could properly think about them._

" _Is that – are you saying you are the_ real _Kaitô Kid?"_

_Surprise – or was that shock? – won over any other feelings that the thief might have exhibited, and with entirely too much indignation (in the sleuth's eyes), the magician made to "defend his honor", so to speak._

" _What in –_ of course _I am the real Kaitô Kid! There_ is _only one of me in existence! Everybody else you may have met is, consequently, quite obviously an imposter. Oh, pray tell me, who was the person behind the mask that you've met wearing_ my _suit?" His white-clad tea partner leaned forward expectantly at that._

 _Well, he supposed it was only fair that Kaitô Kid felt territorial concerning his reputation and public image. Well, if he wasn't dead, then there was only one explanation left for what he was seeing. This had to be a dream, then, if it wasn't a real scenario. He paused in thought. Had this ever been_ real _to begin with? This situation had been abstruse and very much abstract from the very beginning. He couldn't say for certain if he'd dreamt up this version of the Kaitô Kid to differentiate him from his classmate or if he was confronted with a version of the Kaitô Kid that he'd had before they'd officially met for the first time._

_Not that a dream-Kaitô Kid would act any different than Kuroba Kaito would. After all, the two of them were slowly getting to know one another and those were Hakuba's dreams, weren't they? The Kaitô Kids in his dreams – dead or not – were apparently molded after his impression of the real Kaitô Kid (even if he didn't understand how exactly the moustache came into being; a defense mechanism of his mind to compensate for his guilty conscience of having started those tea sessions with the thief?)._

_Understandably, both would act and re-act if not in the same fashion, then at least similarly._

And then he made the mistake of opening his eyes. Everything was over once more and he found himself lying on his stomach on the bed, having moved to the far left hand side sometime in the middle of the night. When he looked around he quickly found the reason for his disorientation. His feet were lying across the cushion at the head of the bed, while his head was lying at the very end of the bed. He must have turned around sometime during the night, while asleep. How he'd managed to do that without waking himself up in the process, however, was a mystery for another day.

XXX

XXX

XXX

**Hachi/8**

XXX

XXX

XXX

The next few nights – all the way up to the next Kid heist, to be honest, Hakuba only saw the by-then-familiar Kaitô Kid persona from afar, sitting at the tea table, and staring forlornly up to the moon. He would then wake up in a cold sweat, after having looked at the white-clad magician for half an eternity, feeling-wise. The detective couldn't make heads or tails from it, however, and he wasn't even able to approach the other man any more, either.

This was a very frustrating situation for the young sleuth who was used to – if not gathering clues and hints about the situation he found himself in then at least talking to people in order to find out things. It was extremely annoying, to say the least. The dreams having put him in quite the foul mood, the sleuth was feeling wisps and whispers of that dark disposition then. Still, even those sufficed to render him acerbic and his words cutting. Naturally, he didn't think the thief was responsible for his dreams, but he felt like his classmate-in-disguise was the only person that he could tell about those dreams, if not outright accuse for giving him those nightmares all along. So close to the end of their next tea session, he breached the subject.

"No one likes imposters, least of all you, I have to concede that. Why in heaven's name is it, however, that I am being haunted by a Kaitô Kid imposter in my own dreams of all places? What do you have to say to that?"

The figure in white stilled, its whole body having gone rigid at the biting remarks Hakuba threw in the thief's general direction. He'd long since abandoned the idea of standing still while recounting just what had been plaguing him all those nights and was moving around, walking up and down the rooftop, from one side to the other in obvious agitation.

"An imposter, you say?" The magician was abnormally calm in the face of such a far-fetched accusation, leaving the implication of him being somehow involved in the detective's dreams' conversations and actions hanging in the air like one of his gliders, circling the room and slowly but steadily losing height in the process. The Hakuba heir himself thought the idea very much ridiculous, however the little true sleep that he'd gotten the nights before wasn't allowing his head to think all too clearly at the moment, apparently only giving him half of the power that his brain usually ran on and leaving him with half of the puzzle in the middle of the night. Admittedly, he felt as though he was drunk somehow, his brain's responses were that sluggish.

Nevertheless, he managed to reply to the other's question.

"Yes, an imposter. And quite a bad one at that, too. Why my brain decides to think up people who are dressed as you but do not look like you at all may remain a mystery, nonetheless, seeing as I have never seen a Kaitô Kid imposter with a moustache yet and-"

"A moustache, you say?" The moonlighting teenager cut his rant off rather more abruptly than he'd ever been cut off by neither the thief persona nor his classmate until then. Inclining his head a little in an unspoken affirmative, the detective stayed quiet. Saguru had already been wondering why the thief hadn't offered one insult yet in answer to his (to his mind) rather absurd claims. Yes, there was a moustache on the face of the Kaitô Kid imposter in his dreams. And didn't this declaration sound weird to his own ears? A lengthy silence followed the thief's utterance in which Hakuba contemplated the reasons behind telling the kaitô about his dreams.

What would change? What would this make the thief do? Would this carelessly thrown-in comment about an imposter in his dreams inadvertently change their admittedly strange relationship? Would they even have those tea sessions anymore? Would the thief come to the next one? He found himself hoping that the larcenist did not think it prudent to stay away from their meetings. It was unreasonable, but the blond half-foreigner already counted his classmate to his friends – what few of them there were in Japan – and did not feel inclined to stop this friendship, as unorthodox as it was, anytime soon.

Before he could think further on any of these later thoughts, he found himself breaking the by-then slightly oppressing silence. "Yes, a moustache. What... what do you make of it?" _What's it to you?_ The question – phrased as crudely and impolitely as it was – stayed in his head, even though the thief appeared to get the message. But, as with more than a few of his other questions, the kaitô did not deign to answer it, but replied with a question of his own instead.

"Say ... if I were to come to your doorstep, bound and gagged, what would you do?" He blinked. Befuddled, he regarded the white-clad illusionist. And blinked once more, for good measure. What was he up to now?

Opening his mouth, Hakuba was on the verge of asking him just that – when his mind caught up to the question, as out-of-the-left-field as it was. It had come totally out of the blue, which made thinking about it not easier in any way. What _would_ he do in such a situation? Let the thief in. Ungag him; untie him. And stay on the lookout for any suspicious people watching. The replies came to him without hesitation. His attitude sure had done a one-eighty in the time that they'd attended those tea sessions, his mind supplied without prompting. So he communicated these solutions that he'd found to the question to the thief, just as they were, as quickly as possible. He himself wasn't sure why but he felt that time was of the essence in responding to the thief's question.

"I'd make you come in. Untie you. And try to find out who bound and gagged you in the first place."

Bemused, he could literally observe some tension leaving the thief's shoulders, as small as the signs were. Some kind of conclusion had been drawn, he knew. It was some kind of resolution that Kuroba had come to. What had he decided on?

"Then, Tantei-san, let's move this somewhere else, shall we? I would hate to think you didn't get enough sleep tonight, after all." And with those words, the white-clad magician lived up to his name and disappeared in a puff of smoke, leaving the sleuth to clean up the tea set and table and chairs. What the-?

A short puff of air escaped him while thinking about the magician's latest stunt. Calmly, he gathered everything up once more and packed his tools away. It seemed they'd outlived their purpose, hadn't they? Because even though a question was still running merrily around in his head ( _"What_ _had that all been about?"_ ), he knew the thief would answer it soon. Very soon, if he interpreted the signs correctly. And he'd go about it in an extraordinary way, too. It just wouldn't suit the maverick larcenist if the things he'd tell him wouldn't pull the rug right out from under his feet as the other declarations had done.

Sometime in the future, he vowed to himself, he wouldn't be shocked by any of the things that the thief pulled any more.

XXX

XXX

XXX

And when on the next day, after school had let out and he'd come home already, he found one Kuroba Kaito standing sheepishly on his doorstep, scratching the back of his neck and mumbling something about a question he had concerning the homework they'd been given, he wasn't fooled for a second. A warm smile making its way onto his face, he welcomed him in. Noticing the genuine small smile he got in return, he knew that everything would come out into the open, for now, they were somewhere that they could speak without any secrets or misunderstandings holding them back at last.

Directing his guest to the living room while he himself walked to the kitchen to prepare some tea and hot chocolate, he mused that finally, _finally_ , he'd be catching up to the other and be on the same page, for once.

The time for their friendship to come out into the open had begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I realize that this is coming a little late now, however I just wanted to say it: I have to warn you that Hakuba's portrayal might seem slightly off because for the most part I just haven't written/read anything about him for ages that I could personally say truly suits his character (also because his character just isn't truly explained yet in both the manga and the anime in my opinion) and am simply not being guided by his character anymore; that happened in the last installment; now it was more Toichi/Kaito as Kid who managed to get a hold of my fingers/hands and started typing things out…
> 
> About his character in the previous chapter: in my opinion that was far more in-character than this one, even the "kept wanting to giggle"-part, because I personally think that having tea, of all things possible for Hakuba to think of in order to catch the thief, that was one of the most ridiculous plans that Hakuba could actually think of to initiate by himself. All other things that Hakuba gets caught up in are usually in some form orchestrated by Kaito. Never does the Hakuba heir start something of his own, something ludicrous enough that the thief would consider joining him and yet with as much dignity as he is allowed to have in such a situation.
> 
> He keeps trying to giggle because a) it's embarrassing as hell if you're a detective drinking tea on a rooftop with a thief; it's not if you're alone, but as soon as the thief enters the equation, everything quite literally goes to lala-land. Ever heard of "The 12 Tasks of Asterix"? There's a place in there that's called "The Place That Sends You Mad". (on a side note: I can totally recommend it to anybody interested in having a good laugh!) Being in close proximity to Kaito – and Hakuba is, for a rather long period of time, if you count school, as well, – kind of is like being in that house for a prolonged amount of time, at least that's what I think. I'm surprised Hakuba is coming across as lucid as he is, in the last chapter. Am I making sense still? Ah well.
> 
> Thank you very much for reading!


	3. On The Other Side - A Hand

**Omake: "On The Other Side – A Hand"**

**Disclaimer** : Nothing belonging to me excepting the plot bunny.

 **AN:** Yaaaaay! The Treasured Edition of the Magic Kaito Manga came in just today! I feel so happy right now – and I decided to share some of this happiness with you! Thus, have fun reading this latest installment of my ever-expanding fanfiction **Tea, Anyone?**

This little Omake is actually inspired by the various dreams Hakuba keeps having in the last two chapters… Also, it's all about that last conversation between the two of them. And maybe a little AU, seeing as here, Kuroba Toichi isn't exactly dead. You are totally invited to read this – as a stand-alone, too, if you want. It does not necessarily belong to the last few pages, even though it's loosely tied to those. I hope you like it! As for the numbers, they have the same number game as a basis. Let's see who can figure them out, shall we? In case you'd like to know their meaning, I'm going to publish that one as the fourth – and last chapter of this particular fanfiction – on the day of the jesters, the 11.11.!

And now, without further ado: Enjoy reading!

XXX

XXX

XXX

**Jû/10**

XXX

XXX

XXX

" _You are dead, aren't you?"_

What on earth…? It took all his willpower not to outwardly react to that… statement. Yes, it definitely seemed as though the detective in front of him believed that to be true. Other people might have blinked twice, in frank bemusement, at that revelation. A derisive snort left his lips before he could help himself. He wasn't other people. Then again, that didn't mean he couldn't imitate them if need be. Seeing that the sleuth was absorbed deeply in thought, he allowed his eyes to slant a little.

Phew. How to explain? Where should he even start? Letting his head sink a little he was left looking up at the Hakuba heir in puzzlement. "How _did_ the teenager come up with that result in the first place?" he wondered quietly to himself. The young man had yet to react to what he was doing, so he felt relatively safe murmuring things to himself. Why was it that clearing things up was always left to him?

Silently adjusting the lower edge of his white tuxedo jacket, he reflected about the best phrasing for where exactly they were. Well, how _could_ you describe such a thing? Realm came to mind as a close fit for a label, as did Area. There truly seemed no name that suited this place without there being anything missing. Realm was… too broad a term. Place – far too wide; or was it too narrow? Area had the disadvantage of leaving out the factor of non-existence that all these… Planes? shared.

He'd never had to…

Phew, detectives. Nothing but trouble, no matter where they went.

Sighing, he briefly closed his eyes. He felt like rubbing the bridge of his nose, but didn't indulge himself in present company. Gathering himself once more, he regaled the sleuth with a fond look. How come detectives had to be so damn curious all the time? They went ahead, gathering evidence around the clock and every single time they did, they'd inadvertently throw up more questions than they found answers for by themselves. And in the end they'd always leave those trailing faithfully after them to clean up the aftermath and find possible solutions to the dilemmas they manage to unearth.

It was alright in his eyes, as long as they got the answers they set out to get. Smiling a little, he mused to himself that he knew exactly why he felt drawn to them like a moth to a flame. Heavens help him, he knew _exactly_ why he liked detectives.

Languidly, almost hesitantly, he replied – in lieu of a satisfying reply – with a question of his own.

" _You detectives… never think to not take a closer look, to – for once – accept what you get as just that, do you?"_ Of course they wouldn't. To him it was an old, long-asked-and-answered rhetoric question, almost like an old friend that aided him in his times of need and scratched his back for him. If there were thieves in the world, naturally there'd be detectives. And it went without saying that those would be insatiably curious, too.

" _I do not feel like justifying myself to you in this room. Let us say that here, I am just as real as you."_

Yes. Because sometimes, it was better not to pry. Sometimes, curiosity could – and would – be punished. As he'd found out the hard way. Funny, that. He'd always thought it would be one of the detectives he spent most of his time with that would be caught up in something like _this_. Instead, it had happened to him, preparations, plans A to M and beta plans be damned. Wasn't life hilarious, sometimes?

He hadn't missed the frown, nor had he missed the detective's looking around. It was funny, in a way. The older man knew the boy – for it was only a _boy_ he was facing – wouldn't see anything out of place. Really, he almost felt like a mentor-of-sorts, being stuck in this "dream-like" landscape and having those inspiring conversations with the junior sleuth.

The words that the detective uttered next, however, only served to surprise him, negatively, that is – and he might have reacted a little more ferociously than necessary, he conceded belatedly to himself, long after the Hakuba heir had left. Nevertheless, it just wouldn't do for him to become someone other people imitated to the point where an imposter could take his place. And get shot, in the worst case scenario. No, he certainly wouldn't stand by and watch while another person – another _thief_ went and stole his property. Thieves never did share, after all. Well, if they weren't married, that was.

Hopefully, one of _his_ detectives would pick up on the clues he'd left behind soon. After that outburst of his (he'd definitely been there far too long already if he started slipping up!) he hadn't met the teenager again, unfortunately. It was a shame, really. The young man had provided him with good entertainment, playing those conversational games of his!

XXX

XXX

XXX

**Ichi/1**

XXX

XXX

XXX

Finally! Standing in front of his house, he was left wondering how it all had happened. How could he have been this… sloppy, for lack of a better word? He'd been way too confident. Arrogance, some people would call it. "Pride comes before a fall" – and didn't he know the truth of that.

A small breath escaped him, fogging his (fake) glasses a little. Shuffling through the small bag that he'd been given, he quickly found the thing he was looking for. The small letter weighed heavily on his heart. Cradling it carefully in his hands, he sighed. This would come as nothing less than an earth-rocking revelation to his wife and son. Both probably wouldn't know what hit them after he'd stopped explaining. If they even let him get as far as that.

Looking up again, he could only stare forlornly at the house that had been his home, what felt like a year ago. Behind and above it, the night sky unfurled like a blanket, offering calm and peace for his bedlam thoughts.

He felt like a wayward son, coming home after such a long time. Unbidden, tears made their way quietly across his cheeks. Right. Feeling guilty, he couldn't even bring himself to avert his eyes. The lights were on in the living room, and, from where he stood right in front of the house, he could only just make out the light's way out of the kitchen window to the neighboring fence. His family was home, then. That was good and filled him with a sense of rightness that he wouldn't be able to explain if he was asked to.

Just as quietly, a snowflake landed on his nose. What…? Directing his eyes upwards, he saw snow starting to fall. A shaky smile formed on his lips. This gave him all the courage he'd needed to walk up the small walkway to the entrance door and ring the doorbell.

His fingers were shaking, in fact, both of his hands were; badly, at that. He was trembling all over. How would he face them? What would they say? He'd been away for so long already… what had happened in the meantime? What would happen, still? Would they kick him out…? No. That last one was a thought that he could easily negate in his own mind, knowing them as well as he did. But what would they do to him? What would become of him-?

Before he could think any further, he perceived the sound of padded steps on the floor and the door opened. Slowly, almost cautiously he let his eyes travel from the floor where the warm, cozy slippers of the house owner rested over the legs, the skirt and lower part of the apron up to where one hand rested on the edge of the door ( _the other was most probably locked on the doorknob_ ) and even further up to the face of the person who'd opened the door for him.

A slow, weary though hopeful smile came to his face. To her eyes, he must've looked like a puppy that had come to her door, seeking shelter and food and _warmth_. It wouldn't be far from what he himself thought of himself at that very moment.

Bringing his left hand up, he pulled lightly at his cheek. Real. He was real. Loosening the death grip that she had on the door, she came closer little by little, step by step. It was a cautious, careful way of approaching something that she hadn't counted on any more. Something that she'd probably thought would never occur again. But in this case, she was the flame and he was the moth. He couldn't stay away from her for long, even if he tried. When she, too, raised her hand and tugged on the cheek – to show he was real, it was him and no one else standing there in her doorway, new tears welled up in his eyes.

When she had reassured herself that it was indeed him standing there and that this was no dream (she'd pinched her own arm briefly to be sure of that after lowering her hand again) tension slowly left her shoulders like the air escaping a balloon.

For a short instant they stood there only looking at one another, sizing the other up and carefully weighing up what response would startle the other person the least. And then, all of a sudden, both came to the same conclusion. At the very same time, they both closed the distance between them and embraced one another warmly, the letter falling to the ground, forgotten for the moment. None of them cared. They hugged, touched and cried in each other's arms like there was no tomorrow.

For the first time in a long while he felt content. Felt safe. Happy.

Because for the first time since long ago he finally knew where his place was. Were _he_ was.

Finally, he was home.


	4. On The Other Hand - An Aside

**Omake: "On The One Hand – An Aside"**

**Disclaimer** : Nothing belonging to me…

 **AN:** The last volume of the Magic Kaito Treasured Edition came in! I am sooooo happy right now – and I decided to share some of this happiness with you! Have fun reading this latest installment of my ever-growing fanfiction **Tea, Anyone?**

This (hopefully last) Omake of this fanfiction is explain some of what might have happened in the time before the last chapter/or give you readers a hint about how it could go on, at least. Now, if anybody cares to review on this story (maybe again?) – I might take suggestions/inspirations from those reviews. Though I feel quite confident that this story is quite finished as of this chapter, I am not (yet) opposed to continuing these rather amusing tea sessions. You may say that I have grown fond of them, by now.

I have also included an explanation for the Japanese numbers that function as chapter breaks at the end in a separate author's note!

And now: On with the story!

XXX

XXX

XXX

**Kyû/Ku/9**

XXX

XXX

XXX

Waiting. She was good at that. She'd been playing the waiting game for too long, not to be. Languidly, she stretched her abused muscles. Absentmindedly, she mused that she might have been standing in this position a little bit too long now. Of course she knew that everything would go as she wanted it to. But that didn't mean it really and truly would. She had to make sure…

After all, it wouldn't do for him to get hurt or injured in the process, would it? He made such a fine tool- oh. Dark blue eyes, ever-sparkling, ever-analyzing looked straight at her through the glass that she was bent over. Right. So he'd noticed her watching, had he? An eagle's eyes fixated her. His intelligence was present, his mind putting together clues that only barely left her lips and which could be found in the letter that she'd had delivered to him. Naturally, he'd find out. He was a _detective_ at heart, and she shouldn't have forgotten that fact. Now she was paying for her carelessness with the truth that he'd deduced.

Really. Why in the world had she forgotten that a bookwright sometimes made for a much more dangerous detective, and was at the same time, a much more underestimated enemy? Would it matter in the grand scheme of things, though? No, it probably wouldn't. The ripple that this distraction, this careless mistake would cause wouldn't be felt much at all in the world, she mused. Her world, however, might get shaken around, the foundations being swept aside like so much dirt on his pristine, perfectly white necktie. If it should be rattled for all it was worth, then so be it.

She'd take his accusations and deductions face-on, she decided, still gazing into those deep swirls of blue that he'd claimed as eyes. With a snap, the image was diffused, leaving her glass bowl and her alone in the dark room, unwanted watchers and obsessions forgotten for the moment. Only the shadows that played all around her, guarding her and playing with themselves on the walls – never intruding, never controlling – framed the high school girl who started meticulously packing away her belongings. It wouldn't do to dawdle, she knew, but if she rushed things now, nothing would go according to her plans later on.

XXX

XXX

XXX

When he entered the room that she was sitting in that very same day, it was already dark outside. Not that this hampered her any, nor did it him, it was just an ignorable little tidbit that brushed both their thoughts with a feather-like touch. Both knew that the one person they had put all their focus on these past few weeks, had a few months passed by, even?, and, in her case, _years_ , would probably cross his own house's threshold now. Maybe he'd already crossed it. They didn't know. For once.

It was a negligible notion, when the more important problem was standing right in front of her. In all honesty, she didn't know what to make of him. Having invited himself into her abode – the lioness' den, so to speak, - she couldn't begrudge him his achievements, no matter how much she wished the opposite was true. And yet… Had he not helped her, played her henchman for those past intricate strings that she'd had to pull in order to extricate-

And there went her mind again. They'd never get anything done if her thoughts kept chasing themselves in circles on tangential issues. She had to admit to herself in her mind, though, that she was curious about what he had come to speak about. With her right hand, she motioned for her manservant to leave them alone – the spirit had brought him in, it didn't need to watch or eavesdrop or, in the worst case, do something about what they'd tell each other. The spell that she put on it would only last a short while, but that would be enough time to talk about things, she reckoned. The spirit was there to guard her, after all. It wouldn't do to anger the prison guards assigned to her.

With another gesture, she invited her guest to come closer and take a seat on the opposing end of the oak table she was sitting at. Perched in a dark green, very much cushioned chair decorated with ornaments that were reminiscent of one of those that duchesses in European countries may have once sat in, she regarded her… deliverer? Yes, that word described him quite nicely. Nevertheless, she didn't dare speak this term out loud, lest he take offense. Detectives were such a delicate folk to be handled sometimes… dangerous and delicate at the same time. A rose came to mind as a mostly-accurate comparison, as did an overgrown hedge. A puzzling people. In a league of their own.

In that, they made as much sense as thieves did. The mystery writer – _detective!_ – dangerous opponent and keen helper at the same time – slowly ambled closer. She was certain that his eyes; despite never roaming the room in anything other than quick glances to the left and to the right; drank in every single thing as though he wanted to reproduce the room, the atmosphere and the magic in it, just as he was seeing it in that moment later on in a book of his. Undoubtedly, this chamber, the grand and beautifully decorated dining room of her house, would inspire at least one location in a chapter of his books-to-be.

Mayhaps, it would feature honorably as the Dining of his antagonist's house. Her lips curled in a grimace of a smirk for a brief moment. There and gone again. He'd arrived at the table by then, his arms dangling at his sides in a relaxed gesture of confidence and alertness. Her own arms and hands were lying on her chair's armrests, her fingers curling loosely, claw-like. She didn't want to appear threatening at all, nor did she want for him to take her lightly.

He had placed himself right behind the second chair that she'd put at the table's side opposite of her. It was less decorated than hers by far, but still served its purpose, so she had supposed it would suffice for the writer's one-time visit. She'd see to it herself that this occurrence would not repeat itself.

The author closed his eyes and took on a benevolent expression that didn't fool her for a second. With a slight smile on his face, it appeared he'd finally settled on something to say.

"Now, now. I should think that unnecessary violence isn't all that necessary here. This is, after all, a conversation between two grown people, isn't it? And we do have the same interests, at least in this case. Now, would you please put aside the knives and switch off the electronic crossbows that are aimed at my person, Miss Witch-san?"

She did not trust him, did not trust his words at all. With a flick of her right thumb, the switch that activated the crossbows to fire was turned off. Her eyes were half-lidded as she regarded him levelly. Detectives. Or, rather, famous authors of mystery novels. A representative of an extraordinarily dangerous species had come to pay her a visit. The dark blue suit that he was wearing most certainly did not distract from its owner's intelligence, nor did its flattering his features do anything to put her at ease. It was almost as though the night sky had come visit her in person. And still.

Was it abnormal for her not to be on her guard too much tonight? She had to guess so. But her knowledge of where exactly his loyalty and his morals lay reassured her that her paranoia might just not be justified this once. So she turned it down – never off, never far away at all to reach. Right after she'd switched off the crossbows' fire mechanism, he'd pulled out the chair, sat down in it and his whole demeanor relaxed. A slightly ironic smile played on his lips when he moved on.

"Now, shall we move on to business matters? Or would you rather we did some small talk for appearance's sake?"

He'd seen through her plan, hadn't he? It was fairly obvious that he'd met her kind somewhere, possibly way before he'd agreed to work for her. With her? One could never be sure who manipulated whom in such delicate situations. The odds certainly had been stacked against her when he'd approached her. Oh, she was sure it had _**not**_ been the other way around – as she'd first believed. Dangerous. It definitely fit this midnight blue suit.

Yet he'd returned him. Inadvertently, he'd helped her. What was this world coming to? And, more importantly, what would happen now? First things first, she still owed him an answer.

"Let's not dwell on the mere beginnings of a conversation. We know one another too well already for that to make sense any more, don't we? I suggest a truce concerning this time, detective. Will you accept?"

"And leave without-?" – "And leave without destroying the peace." It was her smile that became dangerous now. Edges developed where there should have been a smooth line. She'd cut him off on purpose this time, knowing roughly what his next words would have been, had he been allowed to utter them. Sometimes it was better not to end a sentence with a point.

She'd had to leave it hanging in the air; in this room, under these circumstances and with these eavesdroppers you had to be careful if you didn't want to be devoured. Ironic, wasn't it? Without actually intending to, she'd protected him from their wrath. It was almost like that thief, she mused to herself quietly. He was territorial about his things – some of his chasers as well as his chased ones – to a fault at times, too. This one time it wasn't to her disadvantage, she thought. Maybe she'd need his services again. Frankly, she was of the opinion that she would need them again sooner rather than later, if she wanted to call on him in particular or not.

XXX

XXX

XXX

**Jû/10**

XXX

XXX

XXX

After he'd exited the mysterious mansion and saw the night sky spread above him like a dark blanket once more, he turned around and took one last look at the witch's abode. He had to give her points for style, he conceded in his mind. Nonetheless, this meeting of theirs certainly did bring matters into perspective. A slight smile graced his lips as he put his hands into his pockets and made his way back home. The mystery author knew he'd have to flag down a taxi, otherwise it'd take too long, but he wasn't worried. There were plenty of those to be found at the nearby Ekoda station, weren't there?

His mind was elsewhere, deeply entrenched in the mystery that was his friend's rescue. He knew he'd played a fundamental role in this endeavor, but the girl had been careful to exclude the mention of anything untoward that might have happened while he'd been at it. Oh, he knew something weird had been going on – especially when that light show had started. The smile developed into an amused smirk. That girl couldn't have been foolish enough to think she'd be able to hide everything from him. She hadn't appeared foolish to his eyes, at all.

No, he'd had the impression that she was almost cat-like, as she'd perched on her throne in front of him. They wouldn't get along for too many adventures, he'd known immediately. As a precaution, he hadn't touched the tea, either. What a pity. She would have been an intriguing tea partner, to say the least, had they decided to meet more often in the future – a proposal which she'd negated almost in the second right after he'd uttered the invitation.

At the same time he was immeasurably glad, though. She'd helped him, after all, hadn't she? She'd aided him in regaining his most-sought-after rival and dear friend. That was a gift that nothing could compare to. His friend. How lost and desperately hopeful he'd been, when he'd finally picked him up! How long his journey had to have been, how far he'd probably travelled by the time that the mystery author reached him. Yes, Yûsaku mused to himself quietly, it certainly was a value far greater, far beyond most anything else that the world could offer, to have a friend waiting for you – helping you out of the deepest depths of the world's abyss, just because they were worried for you and wanted you safe and home again.

XXX

XXX

XXX

 **AN** : Well, it seems this installment is kind of an Easter Egg for you. (Believe me when I say that the date overlapping with Easter was utterly coincidental. Yes, there actually is a system to my madness.) Hope you like it!

 _ **Important**_ : Like I said above, I am considering this story to be concluded now – should someone have an idea or inspiration for me, please leave a review or write me a pm. I'll be sure to take it into consideration and might create yet another chapter for this fanfiction – though, as of now, nothing is set in stone yet.

All in all, I'm slowly getting back into the process of writing again, but I'm taking it easy at the moment. University – my semester abroad is looming on the horizon –, work, family and various other projects are taking up a considerable amount of my time, so I don't know when I'll be able to post another chapter for my other stories yet. I'll try to update my profile page fairly frequently and keep you updated there.

…

Aaaaaah right. Almost forgot! ;_D

The riddle about the numbers in all these chapters will be solved and explained here:

Have you ever heard about a game called Goroawase? It's a Japanese word play that utilizes numbers as a code. Wikipedia has a very good site on it, I suggest you google this game. The numbers symbolize specific syllables from the Japanese alphabet:

1=i/ichi

6=ro/roku

8 = hachi/ha/ba

9=ku/kyû

10=jû or tô/dô

In this story I have used them to form words – one word per chapter. In this chapter I used 9 and 10 – Kyû/Ku and Jû or Tô/Dô. My intent was to create the surname of Akako's tea companion: Kudô. Which one, however, is your call. ;_)

Anyone finding out the three other names that I've hidden like this? I'll hand out cyber cookies to the one who posts it first in a review!

 **Happy Easter** to you and

_**Thank you very much for reading!** _

Cheers, Leuny.


	5. The Present As A Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers,
> 
> I shall thank you greatly for having managed to get so far as to be reading this newest chapter of my story right now! As mentioned some chapters before, you might want to make yourself a nicely steaming cup of tea, grab some sweet chocolate cookies, lean back and get comfortable in your chair, before reading this chapter of Tea, Anyone?
> 
> It has turned out almost as long as the first two chapters and is considered a kind-of-maybe-sorta link tying the last two chapters to the first two. And believe me when I say that everything about this story – excepting the first chapter – was improvised.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this (hitherto last) installment of my plot bunny's story! Have fun reading!

**Present As Gift**

**Disclaimer** : Nothing belonging to me excepting the plot bunny. My own fault if I let it go free in my flat…

XXX

XXX

XXX

**Kyû/Ku/9**

XXX

XXX

XXX

It truly was fortunate, he supposed, that Baaya had gone to a neighbour's house for one of their small get-togethers that day. Like this, he had the whole house to himself and was free to entertain a certain well-known amateur-magician without any outside interference for an as-of-yet undecided amount of time. Hakuba couldn't have managed this better if he'd planned on it. Or was it the larcenist's unusual luck having a hand in this more-than-lucky coincidence? For it was rare that his housekeeper left him to his own devices; their little sessions only took place once every other week or so. (After all this time he still hadn't found a system to their tea sessions' seemingly random dates.)

His hands worked on automatic as he prepared the tea and the hot chocolate. Long used to the process and only just remembering to keep one careful eye on the chocolate preparation, he let his mind wander. So, he'd finally deigned it time to come over. Almost absent-mindedly, he wondered what was going on in the brunette's head at that moment. He'd seemed a tiny bit skittish as he'd entered Hakuba's house, but whatever little tension that there might have been in his shoulders when he'd stepped over the threshold had already dissolved when Saguru had thrown a second look at him.

Putting both cups and saucers on a tray once they were finished – why had the tea taken way less time to prepare than the hot chocolate, again? – he slowly ambled towards the living room. Suffice to say, he was extremely curious and very much interested in what the thief had come to talk to him about. His steps quickened involuntarily, but only for a short time before he had to make sure that the liquids on the tray didn't overflow because of his enthusiasm. Cautiously, he got to a halt a few metres before the door leading to the living room. After checking that everything was still alright, he smartly entered the room, finding its previous occupant having perched himself bird-like on the upper end of a sofa facing him, opposite of the bookshelves at the other end.

He hadn't made much noise when he'd come in – the carpet having muffled any of his footsteps –, yet it still appeared to have been enough to alert the other teenager to his entrance, for without turning around Kaito addressed him with his next words.

"I hadn't known your family was into art."

Right. Hakuba put the tray down on the coffee table that was located in the middle of the room gingerly, before he considered what to answer to _that_. Coming from that person, he thought it did hold a certain kind of irony, didn't it? Raising an eyebrow in a silent question as to where this conversation was heading, he replied with deliberate openness.

"Yes, well. I would think it is not too surprising, seeing as my father is the Superintendent of Tokyo's police force." _What now?_ The question was hanging in the air sans any of them having spoken it. Comfortable silence permeated the room. One of the two doors leading into it was open, him not having had a hand left to close it and not having bothered to do so with his foot, either. It was better if there was at least one exit still open to the night-time larcenist, of that he was sure.

Most probably it wouldn't matter in the great scheme of things, what with the thief's talents at escaping the best of safes sans much apparent effort, but Hakuba wanted it as a sort-of peace treaty between them. _There you go,_ this action embraced the two of them charily, _you can leave whenever you want, not whenever I care to let you out._ Wasn't it weird that now – more than a year after having begun as a consultant in the Task Force – he didn't particularly want to cage his prey?

To him, it was comparable to a bad soap opera, the way his opinion had changed and _been_ changed and mutilated to no longer resemble his one-time wish of catching the thief-in-white and arresting him and putting him behind the bars of a local prison cell. Still, he couldn't help but ask himself why it had taken this much to make him notice the inconsistencies swarming around the persona of the phantom thief. Before he was able to ponder this too much and before the silence grew distinctly awkward, the magician spoke up once more, having turned his eyes and head to his left, directed at a painting of his mother's house back in Great Britain, not that Kaito would know that. Or did he?

"You know, my father had good taste, too, when it came to art. He had even had a portrait done of himself, once."

Was that… an invitation or was his mind playing tricks on him? It was mid-afternoon, so the sun was shining in from their left and the big windows on the one side of the room illuminated the room in pale yellow and soft vanilla colours. He imagined what kind of portrait it had been that Kuroba's father had ordered done. With a slight snort, he wondered if it was one of himself as Kaitô Kid. But that was impossible, wasn't it? It would be the perfect piece of evidence. No thief in their right mind would do something like that. The idea was discarded as ludicrous as soon as it came up.

So was it one of him in full regalia as a magician? Kuroba had talked often enough about him wanting to be like his father for Hakuba to realise that his parent most probably had been what the teenager was striving to become at the moment, namely a famous magician.

Kaito, in the meanwhile, had turned around at hearing this almost-involuntary puff of air leave his mouth and was staring at him curiously, both hands loosely settled over the sofa's backrest. Hands On The Table again, was it? His earlier statement certainly opened the conversation up wide. Another huff escaped him as he considered his next words, eyes directed at the tea on the coffee table that he was standing beside right then.

"Oh? I wonder if you would want something like that to be done, as well." Just to imitate his father. To be like him. What would it need to have the younger Kuroba do one of himself, as well? Arrogance? Self-confidence? Task achievement? Whatever _that_ was all about…

Kuroba had looked away, back towards the painting of the house once more. It hung at eye-level, easily reachable for if he ever yearned for company and no one was around. The painting was easily accessible, the original, though, understandably, wasn't.

"I believe Okaa-san had it done for him. Probably as a surprise." There was some musing there. The brunette's relaxed stance showed his easing into the situation better than any of his words ever could have. Hakuba did well not to take every single thing that the other teenager uttered at face-value. He knew from first-hand experience just how well-versed the other was at lying and twisting the truth into something else entirely. And yet…

Closing his eyes slightly, the Hakuba heir wandered towards the armchair closest to the chimney – his favourite among all the seats available in the room – and let himself down slowly, like an old man having returned home in the evening just to do that. Before he could open his mouth, however, Kaito had interceded neatly.

"What is it like?" This got raised eyebrows from the detective.

"What is it like, living in such a big house? Your father is gone all day, isn't he?" The creamy yellowish hues played alongside his hands as he considered his answer.

"You know that my housekeeper, Baaya, is living here, as well?" he sidestepped the question. His strategy was as obvious as though he'd proclaimed it loudly in public. It garnered no reaction whatsoever from his conversational partner.

A beat, then, "Say, what do you think of Kaitô Kid?"

What? As unrelated as it was, this threw him for a loop at first. Wasn't it obvious what he thought of the phantom thief? He thought he'd made it clear to everybody in class what he thought of this particular larcenist? His surprise must have shown on his face, for the magician went on to clarify what he meant with an attitude and a look bordering on a glare that screamed that _he_ was the slow one in their conversation and _did he honestly have to spell it out for him_?

"What is your real opinion on him? Not what you think in front of the class, not what you think in front of the Task Force – Nakamori-ojii-san's renditions of that were enough already, thank you very much –, what do you think of him?" Frank honesty and boldness that bordered on riskiness. How did the amateur-thief manage not to make enemies out of all his acquaintances, again?

Now _that_ was a loaded question. What could he say that wouldn't offend the other? Did he want to prevent offending him or did he want to be truthful? Were those two things mutually exclusive in this case? What _was_ his opinion on the self-proclaimed gentleman-thief?

Taking the still-steaming tea cup into his hands, he thought about what he wanted to say. The brunette teenager's gaze had found the hot chocolate cup by then and, without leaving it out of his sight – as though it could disappear at any given moment if he did – he went around the sofa and closer to the table. Step by step by step, until he stood right before it. Hakuba had followed the process absent-mindedly and was now reminded of a cat eyeing a spectacularly crazy canary doing loopings on the coffee table. He surmised that the craziness was getting to him and calmly sipped his tea. The bitter taste it left on his tongue was refreshing in its difference. It gave him an idea. In the end, he decided to be blunt.

"He's a pain in the neck. On too much sugar all the time for it to make sense. An irritant at best. A bloody nuisance at worst." A slim line of affection coated his words. Even the swearing flowed over his lips like the honey he'd put into his cup. The tea had certainly helped his tongue.

Belatedly, he noticed that the other had taken up his position in front of one of the two windows, cradling the hot chocolate in his hands carefully. Light shadows had entangled themselves in the other teenager's clothes' folds. It was around then that he realised that the magician had gone immobile under his words. He blinked in bemusement. Was that…? Was he… bothered by what the detective had said? What about his words was bothering the magician? Shouldn't _he_ be the one bothered, rather?

He would have all the reasons in the world for it, too. Yet, he was the calm one, stoically sitting in the armchair beside the unused chimney piece decorating his living room, waiting what the other would do. Light yellow hues passed the sides of the amateur-magician on their way into the room. Silence drank them in for a moment. Kuroba took a sip from his cup. A course of action was set. The carefully measured-out words poured from the kaitô's mouth soon enough.

"You would think the consultant of the Kaitô Kid Task Force was less partial to one specific side." As clipped as the syllables were, they cut a path that had already been carved out by the detective himself, testing the waters and treading the ground for obstacles and bumps in the road. They didn't find any.

Head tilted to his left, the alleged phantom thief regarded the sleuth tentatively. Abruptly, he turned and headed towards the bookshelves again.

"I noticed there is a copy of Sherlock Holmes on that shelf."

Hakuba's head reeled from the turn the conversation had taken with this sentence. He couldn't help the sarcasm that slipped out, frankly, he couldn't. Dripping with it, his words followed that statement immediately.

"You may have noticed, I am a fan." Amused, deep blue eyes journeyed back to him from the other side of the room. That colour certainly was unique, wasn't it? At least among Asian people. What side of the family had that com from, he mused idly. And was that a quirk of the lips that had darted over the magician's face briefly? He couldn't have imagined that, could he?

If this conversation dragged on like this – jumping from one topic to the other all the time – he was sure he would grow weary sooner rather than later, as he'd hoped. Why did the pest insist on springing things on him sans pause? … Somehow he was curious about what was going on in his classmate's brain. Did it look like this? Random thoughts strung together with tenuous links to associations that stretched as far as to Bali? With him absorbed in his thoughts this much, he almost didn't catch Kaito's next quietly-uttered words.

"As expected."

His shoulders deflated in confusion, at that. Would it be best to just give up trying to understand Kuroba? It might be better for his continued peace of mind, he conceded in the private confines of his brain. That might, however, be detrimental to any future plans seeing as he would surely not be rid of the thief-turned-classmate ( _or was that classmate-turned-thief? Nothing seemed sure any more;_ ) anytime soon.

Not knowing what to do or say next rendered him speechless for the moment, so he brought the cup to his lips anew and relished in the warm tea streaming down his throat. He allowed a soundless sigh to cross his mouth and closed his eyes in blissful tranquillity.

"What are your thoughts… on Lupin?" The shattering of the momentary peace was accepted with a grace that belied his inner turmoil. What in heaven's name was the thief on about _now_?

"An adversary." Two people scrutinising one another on a street; a carriage passing by. "A nuisance." A watch taken during a case and returned after a successful deduction. "A pest." Briefly, he was completely taken in by the similarities. Didn't these nouns describe their relationship's progress to a T? Not important. What was important was Kuroba's answer. Or his next rapidly-fired question, whichever came first.

At that moment in time he finally knew what had been bothering him all along. The thief, their relationship (their friend-ship?), their question-and-answer-spiel, their cat-and-mouse-game and all the nuances that were lying around the room and everywhere they had met for tea during the nights all these months that he'd been setting it up, the thief never outright said what he meant and went to great lengths to disguise – not only himself – but also his speech and words and his behaviour. All those things were flying about their meetings like so many flies around a meal that analysing whatever utterances the thief gave only led to more and more confusion and a steadily-growing-worse headache that he'd been harbouring for months now. Had it become this much of a habit already that the thief didn't even have to think about what he was doing any more?

Kuroba was both held back and driven forward by what he perceived as the "middle ground" they were treading on by then and their "truce" that they'd set up more than a few meetings back. Even so, the paradox didn't end there. And that was exactly what was plaguing the sleuth; it was still undecided where they stood and he was floundering in the muddy river bank like a drunk, trying to find a way to cross over without drowning in the attempt. All of a sudden, this truth left him unsettled. The brunette's perpetual restiveness fluttered about him like a butterfly's delicate wing beats, in comparison.

The inside of his head suddenly beating like a bass drum, he took the initiative for the first time in this conversation.

"Where do we stand, according to you?" He allowed for a few seconds' worth of a pause during which both watched the other, one startled and guarded, the other determined and serious, and then continued.

"We can't keep doing this – this – balancing on a tightrope forever. Where do we stand, what are we?" _To each other_ didn't need to be said out loud.

A quick breath taken in, a mischievous frown thrown his way, before Kuroba added cautiously,

"If you mean to say-"

"I don't mean it that way. I don't swing that way, you know?" He thought he'd made that clear when he'd attempted to swoon Kuroba's love interest, no matter what he said to the contrary. It seemed they couldn't _not_ misunderstand one another every time one of them spoke. _Or did not speak_ , his mind supplied helpfully, as he remembered the scene in the classroom, nigh a week before.

Or it wasn't a misunderstanding at all and the brunette just wanted to mess with his brain. Hakuba was weary enough not to waste any more thoughts in this direction. It would lead to too big headaches, anyway.

"Right, right." The magician made a placating gesture with his hands that was aborted midway. He considered the other pensively, all the while sipping his warm chocolate. What he was thinking about in that specific moment in time, the sleuth didn't even want to begin contemplating. The eyes that were staring at him were serious, considering. For once, none of the mischief and barely-thought-of schemes of which the class – or, him – would usually be the victims of were visible within their usually-unfathomable, darkish blue depths.

None of the two appeared to know what to say now. Their conversation came to a tentative standstill. Whoever broke it next would determine the direction their friendship would head towards, the detective realised.

XXX

XXX

XXX

**Ichi/1**

XXX

XXX

XXX

They stood there, in the middle of the entryway, for a few moments, before he guided her into the house, away from overly-curious eyes and noses poking into other people's matters. When the door closed behind them, and only then, did he dare speak up, still embracing her with his right arm.

"You haven't changed an inch."

"You're one to talk. I wouldn't have recognised you had I not known that particular disguise before…" A beat where she looked up at him tenderly, then, "I am happy you came home. Welcome back."

"And I am glad to be home. Thank you." For everything. For waiting when the chances of him ever coming back dwindled into single digit numbers. For giving him hope to see her again. That was all that had kept him going, back then, back _there_.

His arm went up to loosely drape around her shoulders, a familiar gesture, a long-thought-lost half-hug that she drew comfort from now. Their eyes had never lost each other's, only shortly having to move away to direct the two of them into the house.

"Kaito…?" He left the thought hanging in the air around them, two warm syllables that swam around the two of them in joy and hope. Fondly, she shook her head.

"He's at a friend's house. He'll come back a little later." And that was all there was to say. They had the house, each other, to themselves – for the moment. Languidly, he yawned, the motion going through whole body before he opened his eyes once more to stare into amused brown ones a little lower than himself. He got lost within them, and let himself, for just a moment, just one more minute, before the world would resume its course, once more. God, how he loved her. It hit him then, just how much he'd missed out while being away from his family, as he let his eyes travel over the acquired wrinkles – not that there were all that many in the first place – that had accumulated on her face, notably around her eyes and mouth, over the last few years.

What all the silent, continuous worrying about him had brought into his wife's life, he didn't even want to imagine. All those years…. It had to have been a nightmare.

He'd kiss it better, though. And he'd start right then, he decided, by putting a gentle, careful kiss on her forehead.

XXX

XXX

XXX

**Jû/10**

XXX

XXX

XXX

When his classmate didn't say anything for another fifteen minutes and he noticed his cup was empty, the Hakuba heir had had enough.

"Could you bring me that book over there, on the side table to the left of the bookshelf you are standing at?" Might as well make himself comfortable while waiting for the next time that Kuroba deigned to address him. The alleged phantom thief definitely seemed more content with looking around and inspecting all the things that were exhibited in his living room than with directly talking with him at the moment. To be honest, he'd grown tired of watching the other do so by then. Not one of them had found the right words to restart their conversation and define their interaction.

Nevertheless, their balance hadn't tipped towards one or the other way, either, their topic of interest having been sidetracked for the moment. That made the detective a little less weary and wary of what was still to come. Another one of the truths that would shatter his world to pieces, once more? An unearthly secret that had been dominating the thief's world for so long already that he only managed to talk about it via multiple utterance and misguidance? It certainly was no wonder that he was as tired of these distractions as he was.

He was startled out of his ponderings, when Kuroba laid the book onto the small table, right beside the tea tray. The empty cup that had formerly held the hot chocolate was put right onto it in the same smooth motion. Questioning eyes landed on him. He waved them off with a negligent gesture of his hand. Hakuba would put it back into the kitchen after his classmate had gone home for the day. The brunette averted his eyes after that, still standing right in front of him, with the side table in-between the two of them.

Balancing on a tightrope, indeed. This was the proverbial fence that stood between the cat and the dog, he mused to himself quietly into the silence of the room. Who would take it away? What would be left of them if it was put away? These thoughts distracted him, so he didn't quite catch what the thief had uttered in the meantime. He looked up and asked,

"What was that?"

Blue eyes landed on him, suffused with a determination that left him feeling bemused all over.

"I asked if you got enough sleep last night."

Words, said just the night before, jumped into his mind all of a sudden, having snuck up on him from behind and letting him experience a very special sensation of a déjà-vu that had already been lived.

" _Then, Tantei-san, let's move this somewhere else, shall we? I would hate to think you didn't get enough sleep tonight, after all." Tension leaving the air around them, a puff of smoke and the thief having disappeared along with it. Bemusement being left in his wake._

That was as much of a confession as he was going to get, probably. Hakuba blinked hard, twice. The situation didn't change. The barely-veiled challenge in the blue eyes opposite his was taken and discarded by the sleuth in the fraction of a moment. A smile spread across his face. Now, _this_ was what he'd had in mind when he'd challenged the thief's position in their friendship? rivalry? in the first place. He answered, with all the time in the world at his hands.

"I did, indeed, have a good night's rest. Thank you for asking." Challenge accepted. The moonlighting magician was – and would be – safe and a welcome guest in his house, no matter what. He wouldn't have to fear for his freedom, nor the divulging of his secret identity, in here. Apparently, that was all it took to make the thief a bit more truthful while talking to him. How did one circumvent a habit long established by months and months of secrecy and hidden robberies stacked one upon the other in one's mind's eye? It wouldn't do to go too far, too fast. Even coming this far as to have the thief reveal this much should be counted as a victory, already.

"I was thinking… what did you think about the idea of having a thief stealing jewels and bringing them back again after a fortnight?"

That threw him for a loop, anew. He should simply give up and get used to the thief jumping wildly from one topic to the other. But, actually, that was something that he'd been wondering about already, anyways. Why steal something if one brought it back less than a month later? A search. A perfectly disguised, well-executed search. A search for that one gem that was an "immensely powerful item", maybe, something that "could change everyone's lives"? He wondered what the thief would do with such an item should it indeed fall into his hands one day.

"I believe he may not have found what he was looking for yet. I wonder what he would do to the thing he is looking for?" A very recognisable prompt. His curiosity at its finest. It didn't help matters, at all, but it was something that he was, in fact, immensely curious about. The amateur-magician turned his head upwards, as though he was asking himself what Kaitô Kid would do with that kind of item.

"Hmmm, difficult." Hakuba didn't buy into the poker face that the other had put on for one moment. "How does smashing it into a hundred pieces sound to you?" With that, the blue eyes were once more fixed on him, reading his body for something suspicious. There was nothing to be found.

That statement did make him raise his eyebrows in askance. Would he really go so far as to destroy it? And then he was reminded of the nature of the item in question. If it existed – or not, all in all it wouldn't make too much of a difference, he thought – then all sorts of people would be after it, wouldn't they? Was that the reason the thief had been shot?

He found himself nodding in agreement, before he had even properly pondered the matter. The sleuth wouldn't be doing differently, had he been the one confronted with this kind of situation.

XXX

XXX

XXX

**San/3**

XXX

XXX

XXX

They had made their way into the living room, where they'd sat down in the couch, arms still encircling one another. The contact was welcome, needed even. "I'm here", it seemed to say better than many words could, "I'm here and I won't leave." Tôichi had let his hand travel over his wife in wonderment. In the end, it had rested on her head, tangling in her hair and anchoring him there. He wasn't about to leave anytime soon. The evening had moved on and the outside had changed into night.

The two of them had done well, son and wife. His family. There were some things that should never be taken for granted in life and this was one of them. How precious they were to his heart, they had never let him lose sight of his goal of coming back. The magician was glad. His exhilaration at seeing his wife – alive and well and unharmed and for real – after all these years again knew no bounds.

And yet, he was weary enough to concede that a good meal and sleep were clamoured for a tiny wee bit more after he'd reassured himself of his wife's welfare. As if summoned, his stomach let loose a loud growling noise that she could not have missed. A light colouring on his cheeks, he turned his head towards his better half with an eyebrow raised.

She sighed playfully and hit his ribs, once. "Oh, alright. Meat and rice sound good to you?"

"Sounds great." Her slight weight against him retreated to the kitchen to prepare him a meal, the clinking sounds and her joyful humming a comforting link to memories from long ago, when he hadn't disappeared yet. She'd lost none of her exuberance, had she? He hoped that his son was the same, that he'd inherited the sturdiness from his parents.

Or was he fooling himself? Listening closely, he thought he could detect a hint of brittleness to her voice that he had never known to be there before. Abruptly, he got up and darted towards the threshold that separated the two rooms. There, he stopped. The sight that greeted him was one that he hoped to never see again. It was one of his wife crying inconsolably while she was preparing his meal. Oh, what a fool he was! He should have known, really.

Their families – on both sides, that was, – were not known for their poker face for nothing, after all. He approached her with silent steps and a pitifully guilty expression on his face. Tôichi truly should have known that she was just hiding her tears.

Gently, he wrapped his arms around her from behind, startling her in the process of adding a bit more water to the rice. And didn't it tell him a great deal when she hadn't even noticed him coming closer? Hugging her tenderly while her tears flowed freely, he swore to himself that he'd not make such a mistake again.

XXX

XXX

XXX

**Ku/Kyû/9**

XXX

XXX

XXX

Hakuba was reading by the time that the moon had come up and told them of the late hour that their impromptu meeting had journeyed into by then. He'd let his classmate have free reign over all of the room's items and furniture, only checking every now and then that the thief hadn't left, yet. Whenever the magician would bestow on him another truthful, direct utterance, he would do something more productive and conducive to his peace of mind, namely reading.

Having taken up the position at the bookshelf after alternating for a long time between mindlessly ambling around the room and curiously regarding the detective, the teenager had taken to touching the books' backs, going down a row on the shelf that was on eye-level and all the while keeping an attentive eye on the sleuth. A beat of silence, a moment of indecisiveness, then he plunged on with a vengeance that was similar to a train hitting the Hakuba heir head-on.

"He died, you know."

It took a moment before the sleuth could detract his eyes from the book's page and properly think about the statement that he'd been given. Almost immediately, his thought process ground to a forceful halt. Died? Who? Kid? Was he talking about-

"Tou-san."

Oh. _Oh_. Now that explained everything. And nothing. He laid the book onto the coffee table, all the while keeping an eye on the thief. His shoulders deflated a bit in what one might consider as a faint expression of disappointment. Saguru had hoped… what? He'd hoped that the other was still alive? That he'd be able to meet him one day, some time into the future? That he'd drink tea with him?! This was ridiculous. Honestly, he should have known.

Still, a certain feeling of… sympathy for the other teenager's pain found its way into his heart as he sat back in his chair. It couldn't have been easy. Growing up without a father, a mentor-of-sorts… it had to have left its mark. When had Kaitô Kid disappeared again? He resisted the urge to make a mental note to look up the elder Kuroba's death date and compare them. It wouldn't be right.

Deep in thought, he debated taking out his notebook and asking about the details. One glance at Kaito, who was still waiting with one eye pointed at him, poised and rigid as though to spring away quickly at any sign of him somehow taking this the wrong way. Or… well, at least worse than he was taking it already. He thought. Mayhaps.

The silence that ran transverse through the room tasted of undecided actions, words that threatened to leave the Hakuba heir's lips unchecked and were stopped just in time. It was about then that he noticed that he truly didn't know what to say. What was the best answer to this statement?

'I'm sorry that you had to cope with this – most probably alone, from what I see you don't have a great many people you can call "friends" – for all these years and that you're apparently still coping with his death by way of becoming a thief just like your father' just didn't seem justified, nor a reasonable thing to say at all.

The situation called for something better, something more suitable by far. What to say, what to say? Hakuba was searching to put into words what he thought and Kaito let him. The silence stretched out, long past the breaking point and was going farther, farther away from them still. Both stood where they had placed themselves, one beside the bookshelves, the other on the armchair right beside the chimney. It was dark, outside.

"I'm… I'm sorry." He said at long last. Nothing else fit, really. No words would appease the brunette's mind, none would put it at ease or somehow miraculously settle the matter one way or another. It was a great loss that the other teenager, his family ( _His mother? Did he have any grandparents that were still alive? He hadn't mentioned any during class, had he?_ ) had suffered and now had to deal with.

He breathed out, heavily. A whirlwind of something made its way through his body. Hakuba couldn't put a name to what it was. Sympathy? Commiseration? It had to have happened long ago – probably around eight to nine years ago, if rumours about the Kid's disappearance were to be believed. Was it appropriate to direct something like sympathy to someone who'd lost a relative that long ago? His mind drew a blank when it came to the proper handling of such a situation, at that moment.

Silence of the comfortable kind permeated the air around them.

XXX

XXX

XXX

**Roku/6**

XXX

XXX

XXX

It was ironic, what turn their evening had taken. They had the whole house to themselves, and wouldn't be able to use it to their advantage any time soon. The two of them had ended up on the couch after he'd steered his wife away from the kitchen – with him switching off any and all appliances on the way. He didn't care as much about dinner as he cared about his wife's peace of mind, after all. That was his top priority, has always been and will always be.

His poor, poor Chikage. What worries she'd had to have lived through (A kiss on her head, given to her hair, given to reassure her), what troubles she'd had to face when raising a son single-handedly during his absence (another kiss on her face, clumsily donned between her left eye and nose as a thank you that could never be said)! Words would never be enough to repay her, he knew. What had they thought when he'd disappeared from the stage just like that? When they hadn't been able to find even so much as a hint of him having survived the trick, had they believed him dead?

That would explain the continuous tears and sobbing that his wife did against his shoulder. A sigh heaved itself up out of his body. He was doing that a lot, lately.

"I'm here." He said. "I'm here, and I won't ever leave your side again. I swore that, didn't I? When we got married? To never be separated, neither in life…"

"Nor… in death." Her voice choked out forcefully. With watery eyes, she regarded him. The warmth and determination of that look would haunt his dreams of nights to come, he was sure of it. Never again. Always with her.

He smiled, a true smile, one that promised her his life, their future. And sometimes, no words were needed between them to convey their feelings. As if he'd offered her a gift of unspeakable treasures, her eyes lit up in delight and she jumped into his arms enthusiastically, as though they didn't already embrace her. Surprised, all he could do was brace himself and try not to fall onto the floor. With all the moping she'd been doing until then, he'd completely forgotten just how much of a ball of energy his wife could be. Slowly, his smile developed into a cautious grin.

"We good now?" he asked, slightly sarcastically.

"If you ever, _**ever**_ , do something like this again, I'm going to drag you back here myself and dismember you. Piece by piece. Slowly." Tôichi was conscious of the fact that every single word of the threat in his wife's voice was real. Nonetheless, and even in the face of this threat, all the tension left his body.

He never planned on disappearing like that again. Ever.

Life was good, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :_P
> 
> Anybody who thought that this would be the great resolution between Kaito and Tôichi, raise your hands!
> 
> …
> 
> *me*
> 
> Aaaawwwww.
> 
> Pity the characters didn't want to have that happen in here.
> 
> T'was a respectable chapter, anyways, methinks. What do you think? Please be so kind as to leave a review, I'm always jumping up and down in happiness whenever I get any of those! =^_^=
> 
> This, my dear readers, is the (so far) last chapter of Tea, Anyone? It was quite the ride and I enjoyed every single bit of it. If you have any inspirations for me to write on, I'm not adverse to those, I can assure you. (This fanfiction was supposed to be a one-chapter story only, after all. Somewhere at the beginning, at least. How in heaven's name did it evolve to a five-chapter-story I'm still not sure…)

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone able to guess what the numbers at the beginning of the story's parts mean and/or why I chose them gets a whole new story of mine dedicated to them!
> 
> Sorry for the late upload, the correction took ages… Or I'm just that lazy, your pick.
> 
> There will be no more chapters to this story, dear readers, I am sorry! Nevertheless, you can still go back to my profile page and browse through my other stories, should you like to! In any case: have fun reading and guessing!
> 
> Please do not forget to leave a review – it can be just a small note saying "I like" or "Too much tea in my opinion, I'm a coffee drinker" or anything; I am happy about EVERYTHING you have to say!
> 
> Until then:
> 
> Tea and cookies, anyone?


End file.
